


Far Too Young

by bumblegwen



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Angst, Bad summary is bad, Best Friends, Drama, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Silly boys being silly, Slow Burn, it's a long one, jimmy kent has two brain cells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:40:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25510720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumblegwen/pseuds/bumblegwen
Summary: Thomas Barrow needs a friend and Jimmy Kent needs to rediscover who he is. Somehow, both men need to find purpose to carry on.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent
Comments: 27
Kudos: 117





	1. Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> It's The Monster Fic. She's finally here. Those who know, know.
> 
> This is not an inventive or an original premise, but I've been writing this one for over a year and I've always wanted to play out my own version of what would happen here. I also really apologise for that summary. If I think of a better one, I'll redo it! 
> 
> It's going to be a long one...
> 
> TW for references to self harm and suicide. Nothing graphic at all, but proceed with caution. Rated Mature for copious amounts of swearing.

Sounds of arguing invaded, permeating the walls from somewhere below. Thomas winced and sat up in his bed. Even after several days, putting pressure on his arms sent dull, aching pulses running through his muscles. His stomach rolled. He swallowed thickly. The physical damage, he had been informed, was deep.

He strained to hear what was going on below but kept his eyes on the open book in his lap, thumbs pressed weakly against the pages. The words before him didn't make sense. They hadn't for hours. This was the first time Dr Clarkson had allowed him to be in a room without someone there, staring at his every move like he was a museum object. He didn't know which was worse, that or the pitying, gleaming eyes, a sparkle on the cheek. Carson barely knew how to address him anymore. Anna tried her best, but she couldn't stop crying and Mrs Hughes, an angel of a woman, though he'd never admit it to her, had to be restrained from mothering him. Only Baxter understood he needed the silence sometimes.

Just like everything else inside him, his eyes were tired as they scanned the same page they had been wandering over for who knows how long. Numbing, misty exhaustion seeped from his skin to his bones, like mustard gas.

Another yell echoed. This time, he looked up at the door. Carson's unintelligible voice thundered through the quiet. Thomas grimaced and wished, not for the first time in his life, that he was elsewhere. The problem was, elsewhere was either out of reach or snatched away from him just when he could taste it.

Carson shouted again. He sounded nearer. A lot nearer.

Huffing, Thomas shut the book, dropped it to the floor, and stared up at the ceiling instead. There would be no rest, not with the chaos just outside. If this had been happening a year ago, a month ago even, he would have relished in the boiling activity and maybe stoked the fire. It didn't shock him that he felt nothing instead. It should have.

A second voice joined the argument, one that stirred some remnant of feeling inside. Thumping footsteps told him that someone was running up the stairs. His stare rested on the door. He frowned. The second voice was young, familiar, charging through the air. And they were coming down the corridor.

'- don't bloody work for you anymore, that's my friend in there, you- '

'Get away from-!' Carson bellowed.

The door slammed open, hitting the wall with a crack.

The English sky, clad with iron clouds, cast pale light over Jimmy's face as he stumbled into the room.

Thomas forgot how to breathe. His arms lay useless at his sides. Jimmy. The greatest and the worst friend a man could ever have. Jimmy, the notorious flirt, a cheeky arse who got his way more often than not, brimming with fire. Jimmy, with dark, golden hair and a sloping grin lounging on his face because he knew he was just that good.

Except for now. A snarl contorted his perfect mouth as he panted. One hand was clawed around a cap and the other twitched. There was nothing cheeky or cocky about him in this moment. Time froze around them as Thomas stared.

Jimmy. He was back.

'What the hell did you do?' he shouted, 'What the fucking hell did you do, Thomas?'

Carson materialised in the doorway, face as red as a raspberry and eyebrows smoking.

'James Kent, you will remove yourself immediately-!'

Jimmy whirled around and threw the door shut. Thomas jolted at the impact, unable to take his eyes off the fuming man as he glared down into his soul, if he even had one. Jimmy's eyes blazed with tears, lightning streams reflecting sunlight and clouds. Thomas stared. He'd never seen him cry and it scared him.

'You said nothin’- nothin’ in those poxy letters! You were meant to be alright, Thomas- and then I get one from Mrs bloody Hughes of all bloody people! What the fuck have you done?'

No one had been angry. They blinked back tears or looked down on him as if he were about to break, but no one ever raised their voices. No one had the audacity and the courage, but of course Jimmy did. Thomas could have been angry, and maybe he should have been, yet all he could feel in his chest was a release of all the pain he'd buried.

The under-butler, or whatever he was now, just a stone in the ocean, did something he had only done in front of two people up until this very second. It rose to the surface, first gently, and then spread through his chest and up his throat until he couldn't force the feeling down. Hot tears welled in his eyes and strangled him. He brought his knees up to his chest and grasped his head in his hands, hoping that Jimmy would just turn around and walk away. He didn't want Jimmy to see him like this. He didn't want this. Teeth clenched, he bit back every threat of sobbing he could.

'Jesus Christ. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, that was- fuck, I'm such a bloody- Carson just does my head in, come here.' Jimmy murmured.

The bed creaked as Jimmy sat down just by Thomas' legs. At first, Jimmy placed his hand on Thomas' knee, but then he took the other man's hands away from his face and wrapped his arms around Thomas' shaking body. Jimmy pulled Thomas into his chest so that Thomas buried his face in his shoulder, soaking his jacket with tears, breathing in bold aftershave and the outside world. Over and over, the voice that lurked in the back of his mind told him he was acting like a child. That voice wasn't wrong, but Thomas had never felt so small. He let Jimmy hold him, though he was certain Jimmy was becoming uncomfortable with the amount of time their bodies remained in contact.

The thought forced him to let go. Smearing the tears on the back of his hand, Thomas rested against the iron bedframe and lowered his gaze to his hands resting on his lap. Today, the bandages remained white.

Jimmy's gaze followed his, though he didn't realise it until he felt him get off the bed. He grabbed a wooden chair from the corner of the room, ignoring the red armchair, and sat next to the bed. His stare continued. Thomas swiped under his eyes again and sniffed.

'Thank you for comin’.' he muttered.

Jimmy looked him in the eye. His mouth remained a flat line.

'You're my friend.'

'But you didn't have to.'

'Yes, I did. Someone needed to tell you what a silly arse you are, Thomas Barrow.' Jimmy straightened and ran a hand through his hair with some force, 'Look, I know you're recovering, but how... How could you do this to yourself?'

There wasn't a good answer. At least, not one that wouldn't make Jimmy sick with revulsion. There weren't words to explain such a black hole he'd buried inside. Thomas licked his dry lips and picked at the skin around his nails. He kept his eyes down.

'I can't explain it.'

*****

Something was deeply wrong, because Thomas Barrow, a proud man who Jimmy thought didn't care what the world said and who gave it a sneer should it dare to challenge him, was peeling the skin around his tidy nails. The Thomas he had shaken hands with a year ago would never have let them get into this state. These hands served a function every day. They were on show. A footman with fingers like Thomas's now would be scolded or forced to wear gloves. His war wound paled in comparison, somehow, to the raw, pink cuticles and shredded skin frayed around them. The shadow of stubble around his jaw was also an unnatural sight, not because it didn't suit him, but because he was used to seeing Thomas supernaturally composed.

Jimmy crossed his arms over his chest just to avoid wringing his hands. Guilt writhed in his stomach as he watched Thomas struggle for words. To see this man reduced to sobbing into his shoulder was a crime. Pulling him in, an act of pure instinct, had sent shivers up his spine. He didn't want people to need him and there weren't many people who would even consider it, but Thomas could be his exception.

'Please, Thomas.' he said softly, 'Only if you can, mate. I just wanna help.'

He made sure he kept his gaze on Thomas' face. That way, the other man would have no choice but to meet it. As predicted, Thomas looked up at him, his icy eyes no longer glistening. Jimmy let a wisp of a smile pass over his face. Maybe it was just for Thomas, or maybe he just liked that Thomas would do this for him; try to explain why he would ever think he wasn't worthy of being alive. As far as he could comprehend, and he had no idea what Thomas had really been going through, there was no excuse. Thomas deserved to exist.

'I'm different. I'm alone. It's more than that, but... I don't like being me anymore. I don't like wondering what they're all thinking. I'm under a microscope or I'm dust in the corner. I'm no one, Jimmy.'

Jimmy's back straightened and he put all the force he could into his words.

'You're not no one and you’ve never been no one. Not to me.'

Amazingly, Thomas smiled. The expression didn't reach his eyes and it barely grazed his lips, but it was enough for now.

'Wish that were true.'

That was another thing that was all wrong. Jimmy had always wanted to run his fingers through Thomas's hair and ruffle it, just to see what he looked like without all that slick pomade. Today, he'd gotten part of what he wanted, with that ebony hair messy and falling over his forehead. Thomas brushed his hair back with one hand and touched his cheek accidentally. The man had slicing cheekbones. Jimmy forced his gaze away to the window. He didn't know why he was staring so hard. He buried it all and made sure to look at his knees so Thomas wouldn't see, but he couldn't keep his words inside.

'One day, Barrow, you'll get it. You're someone.'

Thomas snorted, 'Will I, now?'

'If I have anything to do with it then yeah.'

'Bloody optimist.'

'Well, someone needs to be, and I don't think that someone is you.'

Thomas shook his head. Jimmy grinned as he saw that another smile threatened to sneak itself into Thomas's face.

'Still a prat then, Jimmy?'

'Forever and always, old man.'

'I'm not old.'

'Only a little.'

'I'm not!'

Chuckling because he knew he'd won, Jimmy took off his jacket and threw it on the end of the bed, ignoring the raised eyebrow he earned from making a mess. It was, after all, his job and he liked to ruffle Thomas when he needed it.

*****

Thomas didn’t register the words as Jimmy spoke them. He didn't deserve to have them playing in his ears. Thomas's breath halted in his chest. Jimmy didn't notice, or at least he hoped he didn't.

There was something different about Jimmy now. He couldn't avoid it, yet he also couldn't work out what it was. Jimmy was an arrogant prat, that hadn't changed. It was part of his appeal. Thomas could remember with ease the first day he'd ever seen him, this golden, swaggering little Achilles who meandered into the servant's hall as if he’d already won the job, sporting a tilted chin and shoulders held back, each glance an invitation to conduct mischief. He even knew the exact spot where Jimmy had stood and how he'd been unable to help flicking his gaze up and down his body.

Instead of mouthing off, the Jimmy sat before him was tipping little bits of his heart onto the floor as if he wanted to see what Thomas would do. He managed to rebuild some of the usual wall he had around him with the old man comment, but Thomas couldn't help thinking that Jimmy was itching to say something more. Jimmy smirked and leaned back into the wooden chair, gaze moving around the room, passing over books and his desk, the window with the cloudy view and finally back to Thomas.

'Why else did you come back?' Thomas asked.

'I told you.'

Thomas shook his head, 'There's got to be more than just me, you're an opportunist.'

'It's really just for you. I... I need to work something out as well, but...' he smirked bashfully, 'don't even know what I'm on about.'

'What's that got to do with me?'

Jimmy winked and laughed nervously, 'It's nothing, Mr Barrow.'

'Thomas. You don't work here. It's Thomas.'

'Yeah, but Mr Barrow winds you up.'

'Remind me, James, why you're here again?'

'Alright, I deserved that. I'm... Um. I'm sorry I shouted at you before.' he blurted out.

Thomas shrugged, 'I've had worse.'

'From me?'

'You aren't the only pain in the arse in my life, I'm sorry to say. Did I hurt your ego?' Thomas joked.

'Who's been giving you trouble?'

Thomas tilted his head with his mouth parted. Jimmy was now glaring, his fingers grinding each other like he wanted to hit something.

'No one's hurting me now apart from me.'

Sniffing, Jimmy settled for folding his arms over his chest. Thomas noticed his foot bouncing.

'Why're you antsy?'

Jimmy's eyes flashed.

'Because I'm not having people mess you about.' he snapped.

'I'm a grown up, I can handle me-self.'

'That's not the point. It's because of them- of them and me- that you hurt yourself!'

Thomas raised an eyebrow and spoke in a low, soft voice, 'Are you alright?'

'’Course I am, what you on about?' Jimmy scoffed, looking the other way.

He didn't believe a word, but for now, he let it go. He didn't have the energy and Jimmy, with his scowling face, looked close to sinking into a foul mood.

'What've you been doing since that last letter?' Thomas said to change the subject.

Letter was barely the word for it. Anything Jimmy sporadically sent to Thomas was rarely more than a few lines long and always in splattered, slanted handwriting as if his hand had sprinted away from him. The occasional lengthy ones filled Thomas's head with the music and colour swirling through Jimmy's mad life, and Thomas loved those the most. Sometimes he wondered how honest they were, though nothing suggested anything other than swanning around London.

'I-uh. Well, I got that job I told you about, at that fancy house near the Heath.'

For the first time in days, a wide grin opened Thomas's face.

'The tutoring one?'

Jimmy nodded, 'I teach Miss Hallward how to play pretty tunes for an hour every week and I don't go homeless. Good deal, right?'

Thomas rolled his eyes. He knew the only reason Jimmy wanted the job in the first place was because the Hallward's, some new money family in Hampstead Heath, had a beautiful grand piano that Jimmy was desperate to get his hands on. Apparently, it was the second most gorgeous thing he had ever seen, after his own reflection. Thomas bit his bottom lip and glanced at Jimmy. The other man smiled, the same private smile he and Thomas used to share in the servant’s hall or outside smoking.

'Well done. Won't interfere with the other stuff you're doin’?'

'Nah, two jobs is nothin’. I can walk from the pub across the Heath every day.' Jimmy mused, 'You should come visit me.'

'Really?'

He couldn't keep the shock out of his voice. Whenever he'd asked Jimmy to travel up to Downton, Jimmy always had an excuse. He was busy. The rent was too much this month, he couldn't afford the train. He had no time, or he needed to get through the list of things he had to do before he could see Thomas, but the lists never ended. Thomas got the impression it was because he didn't want people wondering why two men were staying together, except Thomas had no idea if Jimmy even had friends out in London. It occurred to him how little Jimmy actually said in those letters.

'Yeah, really. I've been puttin’ you off for too long. Dunno why.'

'I can understand that.'

Jimmy scrunched his eyebrows.

'You do?'

'I know how people talk. You don't want your... Whoever you know, thinking the wrong things.'

'Don't be daft, I don't care about other people.'

'You did that night.' he retorted.

Silence spread out like a frozen lake. Thomas stared into Jimmy's face as he squirmed. Thomas had the nerve to do it. He wasn't ashamed, even though the comment had slipped out without him meaning it to. Coughing, Jimmy stared at the floor and shifted in his seat.

Both men remembered that night clearly, or, as Carson called it whenever forced to bring it up, The Incident. The touching of lips in the night. Thomas held the memory in his chest as if it were pure gold. Even the destruction that almost ruined his life was a shard lodged in his heart like shrapnel because it made him feel. The pain of Jimmy hitting him, yelling, the blackness in his glaring, was not enough to keep Thomas from pouring over those moments. Feeling something, whether fear or rage or the fragmented bliss that bloomed when he had kissed him, was too fucking precious. Thomas was not ashamed.

Not in the slightest.

On the other hand, Jimmy couldn't hide the fact that he had been, neither at the time nor now in his bedroom. Jimmy's gaze flicked from his own shoes to the bed as if measuring the distance between them. Just the sight of it was enough to make Thomas cringe internally. He was not one to hold a halo above his head, but at least he knew who he loved and could deal with it most of the time.

Jimmy cleared his throat and lifted his gaze.

'What I did was fucking awful that night. I hope you know that, Thomas. I was the disgusting one. Didn't bloody know it at the time, but I do now. You're a good friend.'

Thomas shook his head.

'I shouldn't have done any of it, not while you were sleeping. You aren't the only one who fucked up.' Thomas added, tearing a slither of skin from his thumb.

'Stop it, I led you on.'

Jimmy seemed to be squirming. Thomas pursed his lips and waved the whole thing off.

'We don't have to talk about that if it makes you-'

'Uncomfortable?' Jimmy suggested, 'I don't deserve to be comfortable, not after that. I'm sorry for caring what Alfred thought and all those other tossers. I'm so sorry for all of it.'

'Thank you... Thank you for saying that.' he said, hating the crack in his voice.

He clenched his fists as he pushed it all down inside. He wanted to sob, but he was getting sick of crying. It only deepened the hole he was in.

'I don't know how you haven't hated me all this time.' Jimmy muttered bitterly, the line of his mouth hardening.

Remarkably, Thomas could only smile, even if it was just a small one.

'I could never hate you.'

He expected a retort of some kind or a repeat of that day after Thomas had taken a beating for Jimmy. What he got was the opposite.

'Thomas... Do you still...?'

Their eyes met.

'Yes.' he breathed.

Jimmy sighed, 'I don't deserve it.'

Thomas maintained his gaze and said evenly, 'It's not a choice.'

'You can say it, you know,' Jimmy mumbled, picking at a thread on his cap, now twisted in his hands, 'it's alright.'

'Fine then. Love... Love is not a choice.'

'It's sort of nice y'know,' Jimmy said wistfully, looking off into nothing, 'knowing that there's a person out in the world who loves you.'

Thomas stared as if Jimmy had grown antlers. Jimmy was never this sentimental, never mind acknowledging how Thomas felt about him. It was the unspoken rule, now broken. Mind running, Thomas pressed his nails into his palms. The pinch and sting that came with it reminded Thomas that Jimmy wasn't like him and he probably just wanted to be nice.

Sensing that Thomas was staring at him, Jimmy attempted to brush it off by asking if Thomas was hungry. Thomas looked away and barely uttered the words to say no, he was fine. Carefully, he glanced at Jimmy, who'd stood up and to inspect his bookshelf. Hands slipped in his pockets, Jimmy eyed each book while biting his lip. The material of his shirt was tight around the shoulders. Light played on his hair. Jimmy looked over his shoulder at Thomas.

'You have to admit, it's sort of funny, now it's done. Not the other stuff, I mean you comin’ into me room that night.'

Thomas almost choked, 'It certainly wasn't.'

'No, no - I'm not... Angry, or something, listen. I'm lyin’ there-'

'Please don't-'

'I promise, just listen! I'm lyin’ there and suddenly there's someone kissin’ me, and I'm thinkin’ ooh this is nice, and I bloody wake up and it's your face I see.'

He chuckled. Of all the things Thomas thought he would do after recounting the kiss, this was not even in the vicinity of that potential list.

'You aren't half bad, you know. You're a good kisser' he continued.

Thomas couldn't help himself then, 'Yeah I know, don't need you to tell me that.'

Jimmy gaped, 'What? Are you telling me I'm not your first dalliance?'

'Are you havin’ a laugh?'

'Well, fuck me, I was feelin’ special for a minute,' he eyed Thomas and wiggled his eyebrows, 'you dirty bastard.'

At that moment, Thomas couldn't contain it anymore. Laughter burst out of him like lighting flashing across a storm. Jimmy stood by the shelf half in shock. He hadn't heard Thomas laugh like this since before the night of The Incident, and that was only when they were alone. Tears rolled down Thomas's face more quickly than he could wipe them away. His chest burned as he tried to get control of himself.

'You wreck me, Jimmy Kent.' he choked out.

'Glad to hear it.' Jimmy chuckled, wandering back to his chair.

Both men looked at each other for no more than a second and erupted into laughter again.

'Jesus Christ... I... Fuck, I can't breathe.' Jimmy wheezed.

'What a couple of gits we are. I've missed this.'

'Fucking hell, me too.'

In an instant, the air in the room seemed to change, halting as if waiting for an explosion. Thomas stopped giggling and appraised Jimmy seriously. Jimmy had his head tilted to one side and an odd look on his face. His eyes softened and his eyelids lowered a fraction. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. Thomas noticed the chair was closer to the bed than it had been to begin with. His heart rate quickened, gaze sliding from Jimmy's clasped hands, to his arms and shoulders, to the skin of his neck and finally at his face again. Thomas wrenched his gaze away from Jimmy's parted lips. He thought he had gotten past this sort of longing now, yet here he was, unable to breathe or utter a word in fear that Jimmy might bolt.

'I've missed you.' said Jimmy hoarsely.

These were enchanting words, capable of rendering him useless. Yet, Thomas realised as he stared, he needed to remember who and where they were. This was reality, not a dream. No happy endings and certainly no Jimmy Kent telling him everything he wanted to hear.

'Then why didn't you back sooner?' Thomas asked.

Jimmy looked at the floor, kneading his hands.

'I couldn't.'

Thomas let out an exasperated sigh, 'Jimmy, what aren't you telling me? You're actin’ like you've killed someone.'

'Nothin’.'

'If I can tell you why I want to die then you can fuckin’ tell me why you're... You're being so... Confusin’. I don't deserve much, but I deserve that.' Thomas snapped.

'It's not as easy as-'

'Easy?'

Thomas forced his legs out of the bed and stood up, backing away from Jimmy who froze in shock. Writhing anger threatened Thomas's normally cool demeanour. His hands quivered. His throat tightened. His jaw stiffened.

'I don't think you heard me right, Jimmy.' he hissed, 'You flounced in here demandin’ I tell you every fuckin’ detail like I was sad about the morning paper, but your little problem isn't easy?'

'I'm sorry,' Jimmy whispered, 'but I'm not as brave as you.'

'Brave doesn't come into it.' Thomas spat.

'Thomas, you are the bravest man I've ever known. You survived yourself. That's the most amazing thing I've seen a person do.'

Thomas stared at Jimmy, unable to fathom what he was hearing. Jimmy, hunched over and only just meeting his gaze, looked like a child. He looked sorry. Thomas grimaced. Whatever rage he had before quietened to a simmer. He wasn't good at staying angry with Jimmy, though maybe it would have been better if he were, but all he could see was a man on the edge of something. Not in the same way he had been. Not with the same gravity. Still, Thomas made himself sit on the bed and calm his breathing. He wasn't about to start pitying himself like all the others did. Sinking to that level wasn't in his nature, even though giving into the black hole would be so easy.

Just as Thomas opened his mouth to say something, the bedroom door creaked open. Mrs Hughes, stepped in, glancing between the two men. She tutted and placed her hands on her hips.

'I heard shouting. James, I believe you've had enough time with Mr Barrow today, he needs to rest. I won't have you causing him any further harm.'

Jimmy shot to his feet.

'No, please! That's not what I- I didn't mean to, Mrs Hughes.' he said in a strained voice.

'Jimmy,' she spoke more gently, 'if you could leave without a fuss, maybe you can return... If Thomas wants you to, that is, and only if he does.'

Mrs Hughes nodded to Thomas with a quick smile and left, closing the door behind her. Thomas allowed himself a small, embarrassed grin as Jimmy turned back to him. Mrs Hughes, a brilliant woman.

'Sorry,' he said, 'she's like me mum these days.'

'She's looking out for you and she's right. I should go. I've caused enough chaos and Carson probably wants my head.' Jimmy muttered, before standing up, cap balled up in his hands.

He grabbed his jacket and put it in. Thomas couldn't help but notice how slowly he did these actions, taking tiny moments to glance at him or out the window. Rain pattered against the roof like drumming fingers and storm brewed just behind it.

All he wanted was for Jimmy to come back to him, even if he knew he could never have what he needed. And it was a need. There were evenings where all he did was think about how he could have, should have, done things differently. He wondered what might have happened if he'd told Jimmy how much he loved him instead of sneaking in that night. Fear drove him then and now fear crawled around his neck as Jimmy appeared to be ready to go.

He got to his feet and held out a hand, fixing a half-hearted grin onto his face. Jimmy shook it, maintaining a steady stare. He sniffed and looked off into space when their hands broke apart. Thomas couldn't work him out. One moment he stiffened under his touch and the next he was drawing out the time they could be close. Thomas wanted to hug him, but the memory of that night made him hesitate. He settled for another grin.

'It's been good to see you, Jimmy.'

Jimmy barked out a bitter laugh, 'Don't lie Thomas, I'm no good at this. I don't know why I can't just...' he trailed off.

Thomas thought about that for a second and spoke before he could think better of it, 'Brave isn't takin’ a hit or tryin’ not to die. It's... It's knowing who you are and dealin’ with it. Now, go before we both lose our heads.'

He patted Jimmy's arm. He was about to remove it, but something, some niggling little voice, urged him to let it stay there for a moment longer. He wanted to memorise the features of his face, the sharp as a knife jaw and even sharper eyes. In another world, he would have told him he loved him without strained lightness, without a joke attached and not in this cryptic language they used whenever they skirted around Thomas's feelings. He let his hand fall to his side.

'I should change. Sick of bumblin’ about in this- I'll see you out.' he mumbled walking over to the drawers where his clothes were, 'You can wait outside.'

'Nah, I'll just turn around.'

Thomas raised a single eyebrow.

'Jimmy, you know that's not a good idea.'

'Oh, come on, it's not like I'll see anything you sod, just get changed.'

As if to prove a point, Jimmy turned slowly to face the door with his hands up as if he were about to be arrested. Muttering a few choice words to himself, Thomas pulled his shirt and bottoms off. He picked up the first button up shirt he found and stuck his legs through a pair of grey trousers. At the sound of the zip, Jimmy turned back to him. Thomas jumped.

'I don't have a bloody shirt on!'

'I've seen men without shirts before, Thomas Barrow, keep your knickers on.' he teased as if he had forgotten all the broken laws and mayhem that had disgusted him a few years ago.

'You're gonna to get me in trouble.' Thomas warned, buttoning up his shirt.

'Like that'll make a difference now?'

Thomas scowled, although he knew he had a point. Huffing, he began to button the shirt.

'And not all of us look like... You know, Hollywood blokes and that.' he mumbled again, looking down at himself.

Jimmy snorted, 'Thomas, just put your clothes on, I'm sure Rudolph Valentino would love to be you. You're alright.'

Yet, Jimmy's eyes lingered on Thomas's chest as it disappeared under the material. Thomas noticed. Heat ran up his neck and he hoped it wasn't obvious. He fought the urge to call him out on it. Jimmy sighed and appeared to shake himself mentally, running the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip.

'How did you know?'

Thomas frowned, 'How did I know what?'

Every inch and atom of Jimmy froze as he comprehended more and more what he was asking of Thomas. He ran a hand through his hair. The danger of the question tempted him. Danger usually had its way when it came to Jimmy Kent.

'That you felt all those things about me.'

He'd tried to keep his voice as flat and casual as he could. He really had. Thomas's eyes widened and the frown evaporated. His mouth opened and closed uselessly. The Jimmy that stood in front of him today wasn't anywhere near the Jimmy who he had met those years ago. This version stared him right in the eye as he asked Thomas to peel himself open for him.

Swallowing, Thomas said the first words that popped into his head, 'I'm not sure if we should be talking about this, I know you can't give me what I want, it's not necessary-'

Jimmy shrugged, 'Just tell me.'

This was Thomas’ secret, the glimmering moment he could see behind his eyelids at night without trying. He knew what he had been thinking about, what time of day it was, how he'd been unable to believe it for weeks after and how the revelation had made him indescribably happy. To give his hands something to do, Thomas walked back to the bed, sat down and began putting on shoes, taking care with each knot.

'Sort of hard to say really.' he lied, 'There was one day a few months after you arrived. I think I was out back smokin’ and you came out too. You kept lookin’ at me cigarettes and you wanted a smoke, so I gave you one, but...'

Jimmy only vaguely recalled the moment he was talking about. He knew it must have been one of the first times he'd gone to join Thomas because they had stayed out there talking for so long that Mr Carson had shouted at him through the door. He grappled against smiling at the memory, but Thomas was already ahead of him. A soft chuckle emitted from his lips, lips that caught Jimmy's attention. He wasn't used to seeing Thomas smile so often.

'You clearly hadn't touched a cigarette before.' Thomas continued, 'Tried to pretend you had, all cocky and up your arse, but I caught you splutterin’ like an engine. I pretended not to notice it,’ he sighed deeply, ‘and you told me to fuck off. That's when I knew.'

Jimmy grimaced, 'How does me acting like a dick make anyone fall in love?'

'Because you were actin’ like a dick. You smoked your first cigarette just to have an excuse to stay there with me-' suddenly, Thomas's smile crumbled and he yanked the last shoelace, his voice going quiet, 'but it was all in me head, I'm not sayin’ you did anythin’ on purpose.'

Sighing, Jimmy waited for Thomas for finish getting ready and opened the door for him. As he walked past, Jimmy caught the scent of books, days old sweat and the pomade Thomas used, an aroma that somehow stuck to him no matter what. He smiled and allowed himself to enjoy the fact that having Thomas so close to his body no longer repulsed him as it might have done when they fought. As they made their way through to the stairs, Jimmy looked at each door, trying to remember who slept where. Thomas's was tucked at the very end of the corridor and his had been two down from him. His eyes flicked to that same door, which, to his surprise, was slightly ajar, revealing an empty bed and no personal belongings. His old room had no occupants.

'Oi, Thomas?'

They stopped just before the stairs. Thomas looked at him over his shoulder. The cold and aloof under-butler, a raised chin and piercing stare, began to creep back into his features the closer they got to the rest of the staff. What a glorious sight.

'D'you reckon Carson and Mrs Hughes would mind if I stayed the night?'

Thomas's facade fell for less than a second. In that minute time, the warmest of smiles fluttered over his features, replaced swiftly by scepticism.

'I don't know, Jimmy. I'm not exactly in the good books right now. They want me out.'

Jimmy saw red.

'What?' he gasped.

'They're all... Uncomfortable with me. All the trouble I've caused caught up. I'm meant to be findin’ other work.' he stated with little emotion.

But Jimmy knew better. Downton was Thomas's home. He thrived here and almost died here. The thought that they would dare try to evict someone who felt lower than low made Jimmy want to march downstairs and murder Carson himself. However, it also gave him an opportunity.

'Alright, so what if I stay and say I'm helping you find a job?'

'I don't think-'

'Thomas, it's the least I can do after what I've put you through.'

Thomas couldn't meet his gaze because he knew that if he did, his mask would falter once again.

'We'll go ask them now.' he said with a weak smile.

'Fantastic!'

Jimmy slapped his shoulder and slipped past him, hurrying down the stairs. Thomas almost laughed at this and kept close behind him. Before they reached the bottom, Jimmy paused one more time and glanced over his shoulder thoughtfully. His eyebrows met in the middle and he spoke in a low voice.

'You should go out there and fall for someone better than me. You deserve to be happy.'


	2. Lying is the Most Fun

That morning, Jimmy convinced Thomas to shave and kept his fixed on the man's reflection in the bathroom mirror as he did so. Thomas's hands shook through the entire process. He set the razor down again and again, closing his eyes for long pauses before continuing. Jimmy didn't utter a word, though he hoped Thomas wouldn't notice him tense every time these pauses happened. He knew if he said something or offered to do the task for him, Thomas would recoil and bury himself back in bed. So, in silence, he watched the man get ready and two hours later, at seven in the morning, they left the abbey.

Jimmy flicked through a newspaper sometime later, past all the meaningless village drivel, to the jobs section. Chewing his lip, he scanned the black and white page, making a mental note to tell Thomas about a couple of them before shoving it in the inside pocket of his jacket.

His shoulder leaned into the garden wall of the building in which Thomas was having his second interview of the week. The house they'd come to was smaller than Downton, with less staff but equipped a demanding old toff lording over it. Jimmy wondered how Thomas would cope having his pride kicked in every day. He hadn't done an interview in at least ten years, Thomas told him the night before his first one. As much as Jimmy wanted to reassure him, Thomas’ crackling nerves made him refrain. Pandering would only cause Thomas to snap. He didn't need or want pity. Jimmy could see it in his face every time he brought it up, peeking through the scowls. Little things like that had become blatantly obvious to him, as well as the fact that Thomas really did not want to leave his current home. He couldn't understand how the rest of the Downton staff, or Lord bloody Grantham, were unable to see it in him too.

Jimmy stood in a small courtyard that backed onto a vegetable garden, glistening with dew and bright leaves. On the surface, it seemed pleasant, but that was all there was to it; no character, no blow-ups in the kitchen that Jimmy could hear. It would be a simpler life, that was clear, but not an exciting one. This wasn't the sort of place that dukes and ladies would frequent. Jimmy twirled the cigarette between two fingers. No, he knew what was going to happen already. So, he waited.

The back door swung open at a minute past noon. Thomas, bowler hat already fixed on his head, strode out with that silver shield over his eyes he always wore. Shoulders held back, he didn't relax an inch until he saw Jimmy. Thomas nodded sharply, and the two men walked away together.

Jimmy reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, handing one of them to Thomas. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Thomas' eyebrows rise and a wry expression cross his face.

'Blimey, you're not stealin’ them off me? What has London done to you?'

Jimmy couldn't help but reply with a grin at the sarcasm drenching Thomas' voice. Lighting up, Thomas chuckled softly and offered the lighter to Jimmy. Without a second thought, Jimmy took it from the gloved hand, let the sparks fly, and stashed it in his pocket.

'Am I gonna see that again?' Thomas asked.

'I'm a man of honour, ‘course you will.'

'Meanin’ you haven't actually changed much.'

'Give it a few days, you'll get it back.' Jimmy teased, 'Anyway, how'd it go in there?'

The playful mood fizzled out. Thomas's face darkened. Tendrils of smoke rose into the air like iron snakes from his lips. From under the bowler hat, Jimmy caught a glint of something. He had only seen that ice, that pale, ice cold fire like a distant star when Thomas was truly enraged. It was a rare phenomenon that no smart person would want to be on the receiving end of.

'The butler decided I wasn't up for it,' Thomas spoke evenly, 'because I looked at him funny.'

Jimmy halted. They were some distance from the house, but it's creamy exterior towered still.

'What?'

'Apparently my dangerous eyes wandered,' Thomas continued with the cigarette lodged between his teeth, sharpening his voice, 'even though they bloody well didn't, the leery fucker, and men like me don't deserve jobs.'

Red flowed through Jimmy. He whipped around, facing the house. Thomas stood back as he seethed.

'How...' Jimmy spluttered, 'How- Who the fuck does he think he is?'

Thomas sighed and pulled at Jimmy's elbow, pressing his thumb into the material of the coat. Jimmy met his gaze and Thomas had never seen him look more gorgeous, like a fallen angel about to battle heaven. Hiding the warmth spreading through his chest with a short, sharp glare, Thomas tugged at his elbow again until Jimmy turned away from the house and walked back next to Thomas. Jimmy stuffed one hand in his pocket and took a long drag of the cigarette. Finally, Thomas let go.

'I'm used to it. It's the law, innit? I'm lucky he didn't call the police.' he said calmly.

Jimmy shook his head, 'How d’you ever get used to that?'

Gaze drifting off to the wispy clouds rolling over the hills, Thomas could only shrug for an answer. The truth was that you just had to get on with it, no matter how much he wanted to dig his heels in the dirt or protest. The law was the law and one person wasn't going to change it. Beside him, Jimmy flicked his cigarette away as blew a final stream of smoke into the air. Thomas allowed his gaze to dance over Jimmy's mouth as he locked his lips, a slight frown embedding lines above the bridge of his nose.

'You know, I started smokin’ ‘cause of you.' Jimmy said suddenly.

'What?'

Jimmy nodded to himself as the memory came back to him.

'I only wanted to ‘cause you were always there.'

'Well,' Thomas didn't really know what to say, 'you're welcome.'

Jimmy snorted, 'Now me clothes smell of it.'

'Stop then.'

'You do too,' he rambled, 'smell of smoke.'

'I haven't seen you for ages and you're sayin’ I smell?' Thomas asked, amused.

What he really wanted to know was how Jimmy would remember such a thing, but he knew he couldn't ask questions like that without breaking what fragile friendship they'd formed. Yet, Jimmy seemed to be unaware of its delicacy in this moment.

'I-I just - I'm not sayin’ it's a bad thing for you or anythin’, just that you do. It's just... Part of you, sort of. Like your newspaper in the mornin’ and books and clocks and pomade, y'know?'

If Thomas had known, he would probably have not felt like he'd landed on a different planet as he stared at Jimmy, now gathering pace.

Their conversation meandered onto easier subjects, like how the house was doing and was Moseley as easy to wind up as he had been before. Every time it threatened to move to Thomas trying and failing to find work, Jimmy clumsily veered it away. Thomas found that curious. Fleeting, flickering glances made Jimmy seem nervous. His gaze never stayed on Thomas for more than a few seconds at a time. He didn't move away from Thomas if they walked slightly towards each other, but he also didn't move closer on purpose. Thomas understood that at least. Though there were no people around as they walked down a hill over some farmland, Jimmy had made his stance on Thomas perfectly clear long before, and that was fine.

'Alright, alright- tell me this; who've you actually been with?'

Thomas raised a brow. Jimmy smirked back at him as if this were the most normal conversation in the world.

'Jimmy, this isn't somethin’ you wanna know about me.'

Instead of backing down like he should have, Jimmy rolled his eyes and cocked his head defiantly.

'We're mates and I want to know.'

Thomas took in a shaky breath but kept his face indifferent, 'Define been with.'

'Don't make me spell out for you, old man, you know what I bleedin' mean.'

'What makes you think I'd tell you that?' he deflected, 'That's private.'

'Come on, I've told you all mine.'

Thomas considered it for a moment and smirked. He lifted up a hand and started counting on his fingers.

'Well you silly flirt, there was the girl with the teeth, that girl in the bookshop you said wouldn't stop snorting, Lady Anstruther the very untrustworthy, the one from the pub with the guilt complex-'

'See!' Jimmy laughed, 'Blimey, I tell you everythin’!'

'Yeah, but I'm not the same as you, am I?'

'That's not an excuse anymore, Mr Barrow.'

'I'm not namin’ names though.'

'Fine.'

'There was the first time. Dunno about after that, nothin’ too memorable. Then...'

Jimmy groaned, 'You're making this painful, Barrow.'

'Right. There was a Duke.'

Jimmy halted mid step and stared at Thomas with his wide, sky blue eyes. Thomas looked over his shoulder and immediately wished he hadn't said a word.

'A Duke?'

'Yes.'

'A real Duke?'

'Say it louder, I don't think those sheep two fields over heard you.'

'Bloody-shitting-hell Thomas.' Jimmy said, walking again, 'You’ve put me to shame. I need to try harder.'

'Can we talk about somethin’ else?'

'You're a right mystery, Thomas Barrow.'

He didn't know about that. To him, the only mystery was why Jimmy was bothering to help him after all this time and he wasn't sure that question would ever get answered. So many questions and not enough truth. His head buzzed with them. Somehow, his thoughts made it back to the day Jimmy had returned to him. No. Not to him. Just passing by. He had to remember that. A sly smile crossed his face and he turned to Jimmy.

'Have you fallen in love Jimmy?'

The other man froze. They were standing at the bottom of the hill now, just a short walk from Ripon and the chance of being overheard. Jimmy's eyebrows met and a scowl distorted his features.

'What?' Jimmy barked.

'You're asking me all these questions, like what you said about how it feels to fall in love. Is that why? Are you after some poor girl?'

Jimmy relaxed and laughed weakly, shaking his head, 'Christ no, nothin’ like that. I'm just nosey.'

Thomas dragged a hand down his face, feeling his patience leave his body drip by drip.

'Then why are you here?'

'I'm helping you!'

'No. You came back before you knew I was gettin’ chucked out. You don't actually think I believe you're just here to work somethin’ out?' Thomas rambled, but forced his voice into a deep, cold calmness.

Jimmy didn’t speak for a moment, looking everywhere but at Thomas.

'I'm sorry.'

'Is that it? Is that all you can bloody say?'

Throwing his arms, Jimmy seemed to go through every possible argument against him and let go of them one by one. His eyes flashed blue. Above them, the sky had cleared of the remaining clouds and the sun glared down on their heads like a lost piece of hell.

'What do you want me to say, Thomas?'

Thomas rubbed the skin above his nose. A headache crept through his skull. This was like the arguments he had with himself in his head, battling over what he was still doing here on this Earth.

He couldn't do this anymore. He couldn't deal with it outside himself too.

'I have no job. I'm about to be homeless. I have no friends, no money, everyone I do know hates me and now you're here and I have no idea what to do with you. Tell me anythin’, Jimmy. Tell me somethin’ because right now I have nothin’.'

Each breath Thomas forced in and out of his lungs burned. He stared at Jimmy, waiting for him to stomp off and leave him alone with the emptiness behind him.

He didn't expect Jimmy to remain. He didn't expect Jimmy to tear up or close the space between them, and he certainly didn't expect the man to throw his arms around his shoulders and pull him against his chest. He stayed motionless. Jimmy did not hug people. The movement was slow and gentle, blooming from a touch to a warm embrace. Thomas frowned. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

Not knowing what else to do, he hugged him back, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and used the other to hold Jimmy's head as if he were a child. He flashed back to Mrs Hughes letting him cry into the night on her shoulder without a single word of disgust or hatred. He could never be like her, but here in this field, as the air fluttered with hints of spring and as Jimmy's silent tears soaked his shirt, he could just hold him. As simple as that.

'Jimmy, you’re scarin’ me, what is goin’ on?' he asked almost into Jimmy's hair.

Sniffing, Jimmy broke away, smearing the tears with the back of his hand. Thomas wanted to wipe them away himself. He didn't move. Jimmy put both hands on his hips, coughed and shook himself. Something of the cover he always had, the cloak of self-assured defiance, made its way into his face as he tried for a smile. Thomas didn't believe the facade for a second.

'Jimmy?' he pressed on.

'Sorry,' Jimmy sniffed again, 'dunno what came over me.'

'Stop avoiding it.'

The sternness that Thomas let slip into his voice worked. Jimmy placed his hands behind his neck and sighed.

'I've been lyin’ about some things.'

Thomas stopped himself from rolling his eyes and let Jimmy carry on.

'I haven't just been workin’ and doin’ fine, I… It's been bad.'

Thomas's heart rate jumped.

'How bad?'

'I've had to do things I'm not proud of, Thomas, to get the work I've got. I spent a couple of nights with that Miss Hallward. That's why I've got the job, just so she can have somethin’ fun to do.'

'Blimey...'

Stepping back, Thomas looked over the stone wall beside them and thought. Jimmy stared at him desperately.

'Thomas, please don't be cross with me.'

'You didn't think to come to me?' Thomas turned back to him and spoke in a low voice, 'I could've helped you.'

'That's the problem. I couldn't face you, not until... Well, until now. I wasn't ever gonna tell you, but here we are.' he attempted to laugh it off, 'Couldn't disappoint me best friend like that, I've got a reputation.'

Thomas snorted, 'Yes, you do, for being an arse.'

Jimmy snapped his fingers, 'That's the one.'

Something in Thomas told him he had to say more. Without thinking, he approached Jimmy and placed a hand on his shoulder. Though his thoughts wandered to the distance between his hand and the bare skin on Jimmy's neck, he snapped himself away from it and made Jimmy look him in the eye. Blue eyes met grey ones.

'Don't ever think you can't ask me for help, Jimmy Kent. I don’t care what it is, whatever you’ve done, I will always help you. I mean it. D'you promise me?'

Jimmy nodded, 'Promise.'

Thomas patted his shoulder and started walking again.

'If we're fast, we can stop for food.' he called back over his shoulder as Jimmy caught up.

Jimmy let some time pass before he said anything else. Every second of it though, he wasn't thinking about the fact that Thomas had just pressed his hand onto his shoulder, and he hadn't flinched. More than that, he wasn't wondering why the fuck he'd decided hugging the man was a good idea, or why the thought of Thomas thinking he didn't have friends made him want to cry in frustration.

'Who's that new bloke back at the house? Tall, curly hair, looks like a stretched-out mouse?'

Thomas frowned, 'Andy?'

'You been with him?'

Thomas frowned, but kept his eyes looking straight ahead, pushing down the horror.

'Christ, no. I'm like his embarrassin’ uncle.'

'Poor kid.'

'I know.'

Jimmy laughed boisterously and he shook his head. A smile crept onto Thomas's face that he didn't have the will or the energy to fight. However, his thoughts soon turned sour.

'That's how it was before.’ he continued as they walked down a lane, 'Someone got it in his head that I fancied him and he... He doesn't speak to me so often.'

Jimmy's laughter died down, but the idiotic grin remained.

'I'll sort that out.'

Thomas shot him a glare.

'I don't need you to fight my battles.'

'I know, but I could say somethin’ to him?'

Thomas looked doubtful. He remained silent.

'Thomas, this is what friends do, we stand up for each other. God bloody knows you've done it enough for me.' Jimmy said, exasperated.

Still, the knot in Thomas's chest didn't loosen and he brushed him off.

'No, just leave it. I'll be leavin’ there anyway, so it don't matter now.'

Jimmy didn’t look convinced.

****

Jimmy missed the smoking. Yet, London was full of smokers and smoke. Chimneys reaching into the sky from large manors or factories reminded him of sharing cigarettes with his best friend. The men he saw on the way to work at the pub, and then at a small bar where only women and old people frequented, smoked too, but they didn't carry it off with any of Thomas's elegance. He used to think that Thomas did it on purpose, that his aristocratic raised chin or finely held cigarette was an act he put on to appear superior. The more he got to know the man, the more he realised that that was just Thomas. An elegant man.

Then, he missed Thomas standing on the edge of his vision, watching him play the piano. Then, it was sharing a pot of tea. Playing cards. Bullying Alfred. Snarky fencing matches between himself and Thomas until one of them, usually Jimmy, couldn't take it anymore, either stomping off or laughing until he cried. He found himself remembering Thomas's steel coloured eyes sneaking chance glances at him from before the night of The Incident. The memories crept up on him, gathering one by one, the warmness towards them growing.

By the time he had been in London for a month, it was a problem. The letters he wrote lengthened and abruptly shortened when he realised how much he'd begun to ramble, just because he wanted to talk to him. He had no idea if Thomas noticed. Forcing his attentions from reminiscing with vague grins or a gentle pressing in his chest, his thoughts about Thomas brought scowls to cover up the alarm. He would sweat and his heart would race, though he never stopped himself if he were alone. It was nice to remember then and to think of a friend who meant that much.

Jimmy let the conversation slip into mundanity. He kept his mouth going, mostly about this grand piano he would be playing. Thomas didn't say much apart from the odd hum of approval which made Jimmy babble more. By the time they reached the pub in which they decided to eat, his hands fidgeted in his pockets with the panic that he was going to run out of things to say.

They didn't stop long, gulping down cheap doorstop bread sandwiches. Jimmy watched Thomas almost the entire time. He didn't notice at first. In fact, he had no idea he was doing it until he reached over the small table they were sat at to remove a bit of fluff from Thomas's hair. He didn't expect his hair to be soft with all that pomade, but by now more and more pieces fell free. Black strands broke up the pale skin of his forehead and eyes. Thomas glanced up at the movement of Jimmy's hand mid chew and froze. He started blithering on about London again.

*****

When Thomas loved, he loved hard.

For someone so outwardly cold, he was capable of immeasurable love. He hated that about himself sometimes.

He especially hated it in this very moment, returning to Downton with Jimmy. He held the back door open for him. Jimmy dashed past him to the stuffy indoors without meeting his eyes or muttering a thank you, but they were past the point where such niceties were necessary. Thomas squeezed his eyes shut for less than a second and followed behind. He'd shoved his hand in his pocket to stop himself touching Jimmy's elbow. Sharp pain ran over his palm and he realised he'd dug his nails into his skin.

Jimmy spun on his heel, laughing at something he'd said judging by the way Mrs Patmore was tutting. Thomas scanned the kitchen. Only Daisy was missing. All the other maids and footmen swirled around like leaves. There wasn't much in this world that would cause the activity to cease. Thomas almost smiled at the thought as Jimmy darted up the stairs to the attics. Almost.

Thomas sighed, rolled his shoulders and was about to head upstairs himself to avoid Carson, when he heard whimpering. His eyebrows met as he attempted to place the sound. Around him, the other servants didn't seem to have noticed, as if he and the sound were trapped in a snow globe. He had nothing better to do, so he followed it.

The pantry, of course. Everything always happened in the bloody pantry, the unspoken favourite place of everyone downstairs to come to cry or pour their hearts out in letters. He'd snuck in there on many occasions during his first year working at the Abbey. Pursing his lips, he listened again. A sniff. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching and knocked.

'Go away!'

He knew that small voice. Luckily, the pantry lock was weak, and a jiggle of the handle could sometimes undo it. Thomas pushed the door in gently and peered through.

Daisy fiddled with the edge of her apron as tears ran down her cheeks. Thomas swallowed, staring at the girl, unable to decide whether he should leave while he still could. A pathetic sob burst out of her little body. She reminded him of a child despite them being somewhat close in age. He shook his head and cursed silently.

'What's happened?' he asked.

'Nothing, Mr Barrow, nothing -'

'It don't look like nothin'.'

Daisy looked up in surprise. It wasn't often he let his natural accent through the clipped veneer he'd built up over the years but spending the day with Jimmy had freed him. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realised she probably didn't know this was how he spoke. A strange thought for a strange moment.

'I should get back,' Daisy rubbed her eyes and brushed he skirt down, 'Mrs Patmore needs me.'

Something sparked in his chest. Thomas sidestepped in front of the door and blocked her way. Daisy met his eyes with her watery ones. They were wide with fear. Thomas hated that he could do that in this moment. It was such a natural talent he'd had to learn early in his life and now he was scaring Daisy too.

'Mr Barrow, can you move please?'

He shook his head, 'Not ‘til you tell me why you're cryin’ in here on your own.'

'I.. I just need to... Mr Barrow, I'm fine,' she wiped her eyes, 'I'm fine. I need to get back.'

He knew it was pointless because he'd done the same himself. Say it's fine and move on with your life. Without another word, he stepped aside and let her past in a flurry of flour and skirt. He bit his lip and stared at the floor.

Spinning on his heel, he swept out of the pantry and made his way back to the staircase, but he couldn't let it go and he didn't know why.

He rolled a cigarette between his fingers as he stepped into his bedroom. It still retained the faint smell of sweat from the days he'd been unconscious and the sheets on his bed needed changing. Thomas sighed and began removing his coat when someone cleared their throat. He started and looked up. Jimmy smiled at him, leaning against his desk by the bookshelf.

'Jesus, you scared me.' Thomas muttered, shaking his head.

'Jimmy Kent the very frightening, that's me.'

Jimmy continued to smirk proudly as Thomas clutched his jacket, wondering whether to put it back on and go outside for a smoke where there was more space between them. Jimmy's eyes wandered to the books and Thomas watched as the other man's head tilted slightly, scanned each row.

'You always had this many books?' Jimmy asked too brightly.

Thomas kept his expression blank but inside he was worried. Surely, he didn't actually care whether Thomas read books or not?

'I've collected them.' he replied shortly.

'You ever nick books from the library?'

'’Course.' he said, thinking back to his footman days when he'd mustered up the courage to swipe _Frankenstein_ from the vast shelves, returning it unnoticed a week later, 'Why are you askin’ me this?'

Jimmy shrugged, 'Well, I don't know much about you from before I started workin’, do I?'

'Why do you need to know now, Jimmy?' he asked, feeling pressure behind his eyes threaten to turn into a lethal headache, 'Why all these questions?'

'If you don't like it, ask me somethin’.' he bit back, lifting his chin in challenge.

'Alright.' Thomas thought for a moment, 'What else happened after you left here? You slept with that lady, then what?'

Jimmy laughed nervously, 'Straight for the kill then, Mr Barrow?'

'As always.'

Jimmy didn't look enthusiastic as he turned his cap over and over. He pressed his lips together, face contorted in concentration. Thomas stood back and wondered what was running through his brain. He used to be so easy to read once Thomas worked out that the bravado was a defence, and he'd worked that out quickly. Yet, he liked it too, if it meant Jimmy was throwing his good looks and humour around. Now, here in his room, a place that seemed to inspire strange events, he scanned Jimmy's face and couldn't find the usual clues. Jimmy contra mundi. He hadn't believed it until now.

'I thought... I assumed I had friends down in London, ’round Southwark and that. They didn't want me though. I didn't mind that so much, I just decided I could win a bit of money gamblin’, but that went tits up somehow. Still reckon the bloke I played cheated because I definitely did.' Jimmy paused and eyed Thomas. Thomas nodded without a word and Jimmy went on, 'I was homeless for a bit ‘til I could gamble well enough to sleep somewhere. I started askin’ in pubs for work and I did- I worked ‘til I got bored and fucked it up so they'd fire me. Stupid thing to do, really.'

Thomas's eyes widened and his demeanour slipped. He stared at his friend.

'You did this to yourself?'

Jimmy shrugged, an action that was becoming his trademark. It didn't suit him.

'You know me, I can't keep still. Had to do more and more until I ran out of ideas... Never realised ‘til it was too I'd actually run out of them.'

'Too late?' Thomas stepped forward, dread sinking through his bones, 'What happened at too late?'

Jimmy sighed. His eyes wouldn't meet Thomas's, either flitting to the window or at the floor. Slowly, he moved away from the books and pulled out the chair from Thomas's desk. He sat on the edge, right near the bed and gestured for Thomas to sit too. Despite the jittering in his body that needed to pace or move, anything to fill up the silence, Thomas sat on the end of the bed. He waited. Jimmy ran his hand through his golden hair, expression blank as if he were serving dinner upstairs.

'I was workin’ the job I have now - there's a pub on Hampstead High Street, looks fancy on the outside, but it isn't. Made friends with this scivy, Christopher - nice, only about sixteen. He's sharp, but not a drop of common sense. Poor kid looked up to me and everythin’... ' Jimmy spoke quietly now, staring at the corner of the bed, 'He played the piano on Saturdays and I decided that's what I wanted to do... I just... There's no excuse...'

'Did you lose him his job?'

He nodded, clasping his hands together. The skin of his knuckles turned white. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down. Thomas resisted the urge to reach out.

'I found out he was seein’ some posh bird, daughter of a lord or somethin’, and I made sure I caught them.'

Thomas winced. This was exactly what he would have done. He was allowed, already tainted enough and he could push the ones he hurt away, but Jimmy... Jimmy needed people more than he let on. He craved attention and company, even if he pretended it was just fine that he was alone. Jimmy wasn't so far down the path that he couldn't turn back, but Thomas was, and the path just got darker. Thomas knew that. He shook his head.

'Why did you do it, Jimmy?'

'Boredom. Simple as. I was fucking bored, so I ruined a boy's life. He was sixteen, Thomas, just sixteen.'

'And after?'

Jimmy glared at his shoes.

'I still work in the same pub behind the bar and I play piano on the weekends for rich arses. When I’m not doin’ that, I tutor like I told you before.'

Thomas leaned forward on his elbows. If he were anyone else, he would have hated Jimmy.

'You made a mistake.'

'Do not start makin’ excuses for me- you're always bloody doin’ that!' Jimmy snapped, jumping to his feet, 'Just because you love me doesn't mean I'm some angel, Thomas! I ruined his life! I almost ruined yours!'

Thomas stood as anger rose up his throat.

'This hasn't got anythin’ to do with that.' he spoke flatly, letting the metallic coldness flow into his voice.

Jimmy swore and raked his hair through clawed fingers.

'Yes, it does, you moron- Don't you get it?'

'Humour me.'

'I- Christ, I don't deserve you feelin’ this stuff for me! Thomas... I came here because I'm selfish and I missed you and I was bored and I'm a shit person- and- and I thought seein’ you would help, but...'

'No.'

'No, what?' Jimmy spat, but his fury had drained his face and conviction, leaving a weariness Thomas had never seen in him before.

Ignoring the voice telling him to stop, Thomas closed the space between them and set his hands upon Jimmy's shoulders, forcing Jimmy to look him in the face. He couldn't push him out now. Thomas gulped. The contact hurt. What he wanted was to kiss him into silence, but he held his nerve. Jimmy’s gaze burned through him.

'You do shitty, stupid, arrogant, selfish things sometimes, but you are not bad. You don't have it in you. I know that because I do have it in me, and you are not me. You've a good heart.'

'Thomas, don't say that about yourself-'

'There you go, if you don't want me talkin’ shite like that, why should you get to?'

'I don't deserve any of this.' Jimmy whispered.

'World isn't fair.'

'Thomas... I'm sorry for all of it.'

Thomas let his hands drop.

'Don't pity me.'

'I'm not. I promise, and I mean it. I'm sorry.'

Sighing, Thomas sat back down on the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes. He didn't have the energy for more of this and his wrists were aching. It was easy to forget anything was there under his sleeves until the aching crept in. Jimmy remained on his feet, staring down at him. As Thomas let his eyes meet Jimmy's, he tried once again to work out what the man was thinking. Jimmy chewed the inside of his lip, hands on hips, eyes a little vacant.

'Are you ever going to tell me what you're tryin’ to work out?' Thomas asked.

Jimmy let out a nervous laugh, 'Not even sure myself, Mr Barrow.'

'It's Thomas.'

Jimmy smirked.

'I know.' he tipped his chin, 'You got another cigarette?'

Thomas slipped a hand in his jacket and pulled out the carton for Jimmy to take one. Just lightly, just enough to send goosebumps down Thomas's arm, the tips of Jimmy's fingers grazed his before darting back to pop the cigarette between his teeth. Thomas rummaged more for a lighter and offered it to him. Instead of taking it, Jimmy bowed towards the lighter. As the flame sparked against the end of the cigarette, the same light coloured his cheeks and danced on his mouth. Thomas held the lighter steadily until Jimmy moved away, but his breath came out shaky. He thought Jimmy might have noticed from the odd look he gave him, but this was eclipsed by Jimmy sitting himself right next to him so their knees touched. Jimmy grinned at him, shining through the red flush left over from his outburst. His curling hair fell past his hairline, practically inviting Thomas to push it back, but he didn't. He knew better. Jimmy slapped a hand on his shoulder.

'You're a decent man, Thomas, and a good friend. I hope you know that.'

Thomas almost laughed. This was ridiculous. He was next to his best friend on the planet and all he could think about was how good his mouth looked with a cigarette hanging out the corner. He shook his head and smiled tightly.

'You don't make this easy, do you?'

His friend, or whatever Thomas was supposed to call him, snorted. His hand remained in Thomas's shoulder.

'Other than all the other shit I've put you through?'

'You haven't done anythin’.' Thomas sighed, unable to look away from Jimmy's stupid young face, 'It's me.'

'Oh... Right.'

Jimmy removed his hand, yet he didn't move away like Thomas thought he would. Or should. If anything, he moved closer and Thomas didn't know how to feel about that, keeping a neutrally vague smile on his face. Jimmy nudged him with his shoulder.

'I don't know how you do it to be honest.' he said, 'I know I couldn't keep this up- if I knew I loved someone, I mean. I'd explode. Must be tough, I reckon.'

Thomas raised an eyebrow.

'You do remember that I tried to kill myself, don't you?'

'You're not dead though and if you were, I'd kill you.'

Thomas laughed sharply, 'I'll bare that in mind.'

'Good. You better.' he muttered, 'Thomas... I have to go back to London tonight.'

Despite the dread sinking through him, Thomas nodded before Jimmy continued, 'Are you gonna be alright, mate, if I go?'

Thomas raised an eyebrow and smiled wryly.

'Give me a bit of credit. I got this far without you, didn't I?' he teased.

'What about-'

'I had a wobbly.'

'It were bloody more than a wobbly, you daft git, and it's not over. I know this stuff doesn't just disappear. Will you be alright?'

'Yeah. I will.' he lied, 'How long you got before you bugger off?'

Jimmy glanced at the clock on the desk, smoke twirling through the air.

'An hour.'

'Long enough for cards and a smoke, that is, Mr Kent.'

'Too right, Mr Barrow.'


	3. Broad Daylight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Publishing this a bit earlier than normal as I have a (very socially distanced) family gathering soon. Warnings for Jimmy continuing to be an idiot.

Half an hour into their card game, Jimmy backed out, claiming he still had some packing to do. In reality, he left the room because a tightness in his chest threatened to crush him. He got up from the floor in Thomas's room without looking at him and marched out with his excuses. As soon as he shut the door to his old bedroom, he let his back press against it and released a long, jittery sigh. He closed his eyes. It wasn't like he'd never see Thomas again. Leaving the first time hadn't felt like this, so why now?

He slammed down the lid of his suitcase and snapped the clasps. Hot breath shot in and out of his lungs. He blinked slowly, leaning against the case which was on his old bed to steady himself. His best friend almost died and now he had to leave him behind. Again. A short-lived smile passed over his face. That would never change. Thomas would always be his best friend and Jimmy could never do enough to pay him back for that. Despite what the older man said, Jimmy owed him.

He looked back over his shoulder to the door. It was open, but only by an inch. The sound of clattering pots and pans, of Mrs Patmore yelling, of people like Anna or Bates or any of the other new faces walking about, somehow comforted him. He knew it shouldn't, because out there were the people who let Thomas down, but he also knew they were no worse than him. No one saw this coming.

Thomas would survive. Something good had to happen for him. There was no way that the universe could be so cruel as to deny him anything more than it already had. At least, that's what Jimmy told himself as he hoisted his suitcase off the bed and went to leave. He couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to do something greater for Thomas.

He'd never had thoughts like it, but he knew the unsound logic that brought Thomas to think that the only way to find peace was to die wasn't just going to disappear. Jimmy paused in front of Thomas's door. He bit his lip. It stung him into awareness. Luckily, no one else was around to witness him staring like an inanimate doll. He set the suitcase down and knocked.

Thomas's black eyebrows raised as he opened the door to him and a thin, amused smile pushed lines into his skin. Jimmy smiled at that and nodded sharply.

'You've just been in here, why'd you knock?' Thomas asked.

Jimmy, shrugging, offered an answer that was only half the truth, the other half being that he needed to remember the unspoken lines drawn between them, 'Old time's sake, Mr Barrow.'

Thomas snorted, 'What, for the time I really should've?'

Jimmy couldn't help a smile even if it was technically at Thomas's expense. That idiotic night had affected them both. To be honest, he was surprised that the under-butler could joke about something he'd found so serious days before.

'Somethin’ like that.' he replied, putting his hands in his pockets, 'Is here anythin’ I can do while I'm here?'

Thomas shook his head and gestured to the suitcase by Jimmy's feet.

'We ought to get goin’ or you'll miss the train.'

Without another word, the two men left, avoiding seeing anyone else on the way out. Thomas led the way and glanced back at Jimmy just as he stepped out into the servant’s yard. Thomas only allowed himself a second before switching his gaze to the crates, cobbled stones and arches ahead of them. The setting was a comforting one and a harrowing one. Here, he had broken into pieces in front of Mrs Hughes and here he had relished in a midnight cigarette under the stars, giving and taking in idle conversation. He swallowed hard. Idle conversation with the man who was about to leave him behind again, through no fault of his own. That’s how life worked. You come together and you fall apart. He just wished he could grasp more time.

Jimmy quickened his steps until he was caught up with Thomas and matched his pace. Thomas's hands flexed. He didn't know why. Jimmy frowned as his gaze travelled up Thomas's back, to his shoulders, to his neck and head. In a way, he didn't want to know what went on inside the man's head because surely it was dark in there, yet he needed one thing from it. Jimmy clenched his hand around his suitcase and halted. It took Thomas a second or two to realise he wasn't following anymore and he turned. Jimmy glanced around them. This was the spot.

'You know when I left the first time?' he asked, 'It were here I said goodbye to you. D'you remember that?'

Thomas smiled tightly but Jimmy didn't regret bringing it up. It was important.

'How could I forget?'

Jimmy sighed, 'I'll admit, it wasn't my finest moment.'

'You're goin’ to miss the train.'

Jimmy winced. Thomas's voice had gone all clipped and polished like the silver. His upstairs voice. His voice that covered the writhing inside. Jimmy hated that voice if it were used against him, and he'd given Thomas plenty of reason. That was the problem.

'I need to ask you somethin’ before I go.' he blurted out, setting the suitcase on the cobbled ground, 'You don't need to answer if you don't want to, I'll understand... But...'

After a moment, Thomas softened and stepped closer to him.

'What is it?'

'What made you- I mean, why d'you...'

Jimmy grimaced at his own incompetence. He felt heat running up his neck, an unstoppable red sea revealing his embarrassment when he knew he shouldn't be. Thomas was never ashamed or embarrassed, so why should he be? Jimmy swore at himself and dragged a hand down his face.

'Are you alright?' Thomas spoke quietly, glancing to see if anyone else was around before taking another step closer, looking as though he wanted to put a hand in his shoulder or offer some advice, but Jimmy knew he would never do that to him. Yet another reason for Jimmy to be grateful.

'You've never told me why you love me.'

He hadn't meant to be so blunt. Instantly, he wanted to swap bodies and punch the idiotic muppet that was Jimmy Kent in the face. Thomas's lips parted. The calm mask he usually displayed slipped enough to reveal pure shock. Maybe even fear. Jimmy tried to analyse the big iron-grey eyes staring at him, but it was useless. Heat flooded his face.

'I-I'm sorry Thomas, I'm being stupid again.' he stumbled over his words, 'Bloody selfish prick, think it must run in my veins or something. Forget I-'

'I'll tell you.'

'What?'

Thomas nodded, staring now at the ground as if he were reassuring himself, 'I don't have much else to lose. Won't make a difference.'

Jimmy held back, telling himself he wanted to give Thomas the space to think when really, he knew he was forcing down a protest.

'You're a cocky shite.'

Jimmy laughed, 'Oh thanks!'

Thomas shrugged in return, 'It's true. You're always so sure of yourself.'

Something flickered with familiarity in Jimmy's memory and he smiled.

'Not so sure underneath.' he murmured.

'That's right,' said Thomas sounding as lost in the memory as Jimmy was, 'and then there's the piano. Could listen to that for hours.'

Jimmy shifted uncomfortably. He didn't like this. He didn't deserve this. It boiled inside him like scalding soup or tar. His eyes remained glued to the cobbles as Thomas continued.

'You're... funny. Actually, you're hilarious. I don't think I laughed as much as I did when... Y’know. You don't buy into the same shite a lot of people do, you're always so alive, you laugh when you want to laugh, and you… just… _feel_ everythin’. When you arrived, you didn't hate me, 'specially when they said you should. That was new.' he added with a warm smile, 'You see things as they are even though you hide yourself sometimes.' Thomas glanced at Jimmy, brow furrowed, and lowered his voice as if they were sneaking about the halls in the dead of night, 'You are yourself. That's all there is to it.'

'Good God.'

Thomas winced and the mask reformed. His back and shoulders straightened, and a tight, handsome smile moulded itself to his face.

'It's all in my head, Jimmy, don't worry. You're fine.'

Jimmy shook his head, 'No. No, Thomas, this isn't fine.'

Paling, Thomas nodded sharply and took a step back, hands rigid at his sides. He met Jimmy's stare with a blank, empty greyness.

'Go to your train. I understand.'

Jimmy ignored this and crossed the space between them. His jaw clenched and his blue eyes blazed with fire. Aimed at anyone else, this look would have sent Thomas mad. The untidiness of it, the sparking rage, the way it flushed his skin and pressed two lines just above the bridge of his nose, was beautiful. Here and now though, it made Thomas wonder if Jimmy was about to hit him. He didn't make any attempt to move. If Jimmy hit him, he would take it. Whether or not he would hit back was another question entirely.

'Christ-in-hell Thomas, I don't see those- those things you see. I'm not anythin’ like you think I am, I don't deserve any of it!' he spat, 'And frankly, you can do better. Can't you see that?'

Neither man said a word for a few moments. Jimmy risked a look to Thomas and saw that he was pensive, still as a statue, but winding through something in that head of his. If only he could see inside and understand how anyone in their right mind could feel things like that for a person such as one Jimmy Kent. He liked being Jimmy Kent, he revelled in it, but he was also a nasty, vain, arrogant so-and-so and he knew it. What on earth was there to love?

'Jimmy, it's not about deserving. Maybe you're right and you don't deserve it, and maybe you're wrong. That's not why I feel that way. We're both fucked up people. There's no logic here.'

If they hadn't been within sight of the grand old house or the back door to the servant's quarters, Jimmy might have cried there and then. The pain behind the words seared him. Thomas was right about one thing. They'd both fucked up. Jimmy forced himself to look Thomas in the face and realised the man was staring. The faint lines around his eyes, that grey now glinting like light bouncing off raindrops, the slightly lowered chin, the wry grin. Once again, Thomas had managed to shock him with how much he clearly loved him. How he hadn't noticed before the night of The Incident, he had no clue. Jimmy felt breathless.

'You... Thomas, you're my closest, most important friend, you know that, right?'

The other man stayed silent, but his eyes narrowed slightly with suspicion. Jimmy decided he never wanted to give Thomas cause not to trust him, never again, starting now. He stepped closer. The wind died down as if waiting. No one was about.

'I can't give you what you want.' Jimmy said slowly.

'I know.'

'Everythin's different now, so- I- what I'm tryin’ to say is... Fuck,' he laughed weakly, 'can't fuckin’ believe what I'm doin’.'

'Are you-'

'I can't give you everythin’ you want, but I can do this.'

He didn't think. One moment he was stood, heart thumping, opposite Thomas, and the next he was kissing him. He didn't mean to put in such force, but Thomas stumbled back as Jimmy took hold of him, thumbs on either side of his jaw, pulling him towards his body. The moment their mouths touched, Jimmy couldn't help smiling into the motions, pushing gently against Thomas's lips, the smell of cigarettes, pomade and newly washed clothes drowning his senses for a sweet second. Thomas's arms remained frozen and his lips barely moved. Silly Thomas, Jimmy thought.

Just as quickly as he'd pressed himself into Thomas, Jimmy pushed away. A crooked smirk spread across his face when he saw Thomas staring at him with those big silver eyes. He lifted his hand to his lips as Jimmy stepped back, as if he could still feel Jimmy there.

Broad daylight.

Thomas reeled, cogs whirring, heat rushing to every place Jimmy had touched; mouth, jaw, the space between that and his ears, the little finger of his left hand on his neck. Meanwhile, Jimmy grinned like a champion fighter, one hand now tucked in his trouser pocket and the other replacing the cap on his head. Arrogant toe-rag. A picture of perfect, swaggering confidence. Thomas tried to speak, but nothing came out.

'Had to give you somethin’ to remember me by, didn't I Mr Barrow?'

Thomas stared, mouth dry.

'Right.' he whispered, wincing at the uncomfortable pitch of his voice.

Jimmy nodded towards the house, 'You go back inside, or you'll have Mrs Hughes draggin’ you by the ear.'

When Thomas didn't say anything, Jimmy nodded again and tried for another sunny grin.

'I'll be seein’ you again, Thomas Barrow, I'll make sure of it this time. You aren't alone anymore.'

With that, Jimmy picked up his suitcase, spun on his heel so his jacket flew around his hips, and walked down the lane, chin up. Thomas watched after him and felt emotions return to his body.

Thomas hands hung uselessly by his sides. Slowly, his legs carried him back the way he came, closer and closer to the back door, to reality. His stomach churned and for a moment everything swayed. He placed his palm against the wall and shut his eyes before he stepped indoors, the smell of food and sweat sending more waves of nausea through him. Forcing his eyes open, he breathed in deeply and straightened up. His wrists ached. His head ached, but most of all, he was angry.

How dare he.

Outside, broad daylight, right under a clear open sky, right in view of the house and the many windows that stared down on the courtyard. Jimmy had the luxury of being able to walk away, Thomas did not. If he was caught again, he would have the police after him, but not Jimmy. He gritted his teeth and took in another deep breath. Not only that, Jimmy knew how much it meant to him. Thomas wanted to smile to himself like he'd won a game, but the clouds kept coming. He opened and closed his fists. Jimmy tasted of warmth, of summer, of blue skies, of sunlight through a window. The taste, the smell of his hair and clothes, Jimmy's nose nudging his as he moved, the body heat swimming for just seconds, locked into his brain. He'd never let it go. At least he had that.

As he righted himself, Mrs Hughes came around from her sitting room looking flustered and halted in front of him. Thomas nearly grinned but stopped himself coolly. He'd never seen Mrs Hughes quite so out of sorts. The older woman placed her hands on her hips.

'Mr Barrow.'

'Mrs Hughes.'

'Why on earth are you not in bed?'

He couldn't help it. A grin snuck into his face before he could stop it happening.

'I'm glad you find this amusing, Thomas, when I've been running around wondering what could have happened to you.' she said, more gently this time.

Thomas winced as she said his name like it was made of glass. He straightened his jacket once again and lifted his chin.

'I've been out.'

'Out where?' she asked, exasperated.

'Using my time wisely, Mrs Hughes.'

She shook her head, 'You need to be more careful while you're still recovering. Please be careful, Mr Barrow.'

Thomas smiled bitterly and looked past her.

'Not much point at the moment.'

'There is always a point. Do it for me or for James if you can't do it for yourself.'

Just the mention of his name allowed the sensation of the kiss to flood back in. Sighing, Thomas nodded and gave Mrs Hughes a half-hearted reassurance before moving past her as quickly as he could. The bandages on his wrists felt tighter somehow as he strode down the hallway, throbbing through his arms. All he wanted to do now was sit upstairs in silence.

That was, until he heard the crash.

*****

Jimmy's leg wouldn't stop bouncing up and down as he looked out the window on the train. His fingers tapped on his thigh and his eyes stared down the platform. He chewed on the corner of his lip and thought about London. Except, it was getting harder and harder to picture in his mind because Thomas invaded. Thomas standing there in shock. Thomas laughing earlier in the day in the middle of a field. He hadn't seen him laugh like that before. It was nice. Very nice.

He worked a grin onto his lips, but it wouldn't stay. He should be happy. He'd done exactly the right thing to give his best pal a little kick and they'd spent the day under the bluesy skies of Yorkshire. The day had been near perfect.

Yet, he kept circling back to the mild horror permeating Thomas's face as Jimmy had stepped back after kissing him. At first, it didn't make sense, but now it did. Thomas was a proud man in hiding and Jimmy had just ripped off the plaster where anyone could have seen. So there as that. He had some apologising to do, even if he knew, as he wiped more sweat onto his jacket from his palm, that his intentions were good.

He smiled again. He could start writing a letter when he got back, all the way to London, far away.

Thomas.

The poor man, still as an ancient marble monument, had been surprisingly warm beneath Jimmy's lips. Hints of tea and ash and sweetness lingered on Jimmy's tongue. His pursed his lips, mind wandering back to the warmth of it all. He hadn't expected that for some reason, nor did he realise quite how eager his own touch was going to be. Jimmy bit back a chuckle as a couple of old ladies filed into the seats opposite him. Clearly, he needed to get out more. The plan, in the minute amount of time he'd had, was to peck Thomas on the mouth, maybe just on the corner and laugh it off afterwards. He remembered holding Thomas's face and his fingers pressed on his jaw. The man was a fantastic kisser, he had to admit, for the fragment of a second where he'd let go and dived in.

Jimmy blinked a couple of times and his eyes refocused on the platform. Less and less people filled it, disappearing onto the train. His leg bounced and he felt the two women staring at him.

Two perfect days with Thomas. Despite the reasons behind it, he didn't regret a thing. The spot beneath his sternum oozed with warmth and aching. He closed his eyes, head rested on the window. Soon, the train would pull away from the station. Behind his eyelids, he watched Thomas smiling and the glow in his chest bloomed, unfurling through his face and down his body. He grinned to himself.

Jimmy's eyes snapped open and he sat up. Both old women glared at him. His mouth hung ajar and then tightened into a flat line.

Every moment flashed before him. Thomas waking him up the night of The Incident. Thomas scolding him in front of Carson but holding back a smirk. Thomas lending him books. Thomas and his lethal snark. Thomas smiling underneath a bare blue sky. Thomas laughing. Jimmy laughing with him, pushing his arm and Thomas pushing back. Thomas's iron eyes melting and molten, sneaking small glances at Jimmy.

'Bugger.' he whispered.

'What was that?' one of the old ladies squawked.

'Bugger-bugger-bugger- sorry, ladies-'

Jimmy jumped to his feet, pushed open the sliding door, and shoved his way down the train towards where light spilled in from the train door.

*****

Two months ago, even one month ago, Thomas would have swooped into the kitchen from where the crash sounded and watched from just close enough the drama unfold.

Thomas barely lifted his head at the noise. Some deep and distant part of his mind thought it sounded somewhat close to shrapnel exploding, in a pathetic sort of way. He wasn't there anymore though. Sniffing, he looked through the archway to the kitchen.

Hands quivering, Daisy stood over a smashed plate. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. Several smashed plates. Mrs Patmore whipped around, flushing bright red as she descended on Daisy. The young woman barely spoke, shaking her head as tears streamed.

He crossed the room, his footsteps falling with a practiced quiet so as not to startle her. Daisy, either too upset to care or simply not noticing at all, did not look up at first. Her watery stare focused on the tiny pieces of china scattered about the stone floor. She ripped herself away from it and began muttering to herself, hands flitting about, her voice growing louder and louder despite it trembling.

'I-I need a broom... Need a broom, someone get me a broom, or I'll get a broom and the vegetables need- and the- oh and then... And then...'

Thomas stopped her, placing a grip on her arms. Her gaze snapped up to his, bleary and angry red.

'Daisy, stop it.' he said in a low voice.

'Shove off, I have to-'

'Daisy.'

'There's china on the floor-!'

'Daisy, you need to calm down, alright?' he kept on, speaking only to her, quietly, ignoring Mrs Patmore's glares out of the corner of his eye.

'No, no, no,' she whimpered, 'not now, someone’ll cut themselves.'

'Right.' he looked around the room and nodded to the first maid that caught his eye, 'You. Get a broom and sweep this up.'

The maid, scared of the infamous Mr Barrow, nodded and scuttled off. Thomas turned to Mrs Patmore and decided he wouldn't throw any comment at her about the very fish-like expression on her face.

'Mrs Patmore, you're going to spare Daisy for a moment. Daisy, you're coming with me.'

'Thomas Barrow, you do not order me around, you-!' Mrs Patmore yelled.

Thomas did not look back as he led Daisy out the kitchen with a firm hand on her shoulder, just enough pressure for her to let him take her outside. She stumbled some of the way, but Thomas wasn't going to let her fall.

The air was warm. Sunlight caught parts of the courtyard and left the arches in the shadows. Thomas could almost see his younger self and O'Brien smoking in the corner, and how times had changed. Daisy sniffled, bringing him back to the present. A couple of crates lay to one side in the shade, so he gestured to them and they sat opposite each other. Daisy glanced around like she didn't know where to look, Thomas imagined, because it wasn't often anyone saw him like this. He could feel his hair coming loose from the pomade and his shoes scuffed from the walk back with Jimmy. Swallowing thickly, he put the name and the face out of his head.

'Here,' Thomas said, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket, 'dry your eyes.'

Daisy whispered a thank you and took the cloth, dabbing under her eyes gently as if all the panic had drained out of her. Meanwhile, Thomas locked his lips, unsure of how to proceed. He hadn't thought this far into rescuing her, if you could call it that, and the number of times that Thomas Barrow had made a rash decision was a purposely low number. They didn't tend to go well.

Clenching his hands around his elbows, resting them on his knees, he waited until Daisy appeared to be breathing at a normal rate again before he said a word. Loose hair spilled out of her cap, something Mrs Patmore would likely nag her for, but he didn't reach out. He had no idea how much Daisy trusted or even liked him at this point.

'You don't have to tell why you're upset, just makin’ sure you're alright.' he said, meeting her eyes.

'I know. Thank you, Mr Barrow.' she replied shakily.

As much as it pained him to let down his reputation as a cold, distant sniper, he put her at ease. Just a tiny bit.

'I think we both know you don't have to call me that.'

He bit back a grin as she replied, 'I never do.'

'I know.'

'Why're you being nice to me?' Daisy blurted out.

Any other time, he might have blown up and accused her of the same dismissal all the others gave him, but he no longer had the energy. He raised an eyebrow at his own reaction to it. No snark? He really was in the darkest place he could be.

'Why does it matter?' he answered, looking off to the path leading away from the house, half expecting someone to appear.

'You don't like me.'

Thomas scowled, 'Of course I bloody like you, what d'you think I'm doing here?'

Diasy shrugged, 'Sorry.'

A cold lump formed in his chest, but he pretended to brush it off for her.

'S'alright. I'm not the cuddliest.'

Daisy smiled and shuffled forward.

'No, you're not... Can I ask you something?'

Thomas replied with a nod.

'Have you ever had your heart broken?'

Thomas's eyebrows shot up. Immediately, his mind swept him back to Jimmy's face just after he kissed him and then to Jimmy pushing him away that night. The confusion never ended. Then, of course, he could picture Edward and his milky eyes so vividly, even after all this time, and Phillip with his deceptive smiles. His answer was obvious.

'A bit.'

'Well, that's... that's what's wrong with me.'

'What do you mean?' anger rose in his chest as he spoke.

'I think Andy... Likes me. I think. No, I know he does now,' she rambled, 'but then I wasn't sure I did and then I was- I mean, I am, and then I thought he would say it finally... He's been avoiding me all week. He came up to me yesterday and he said he couldn't do it and walked off.'

By now, Daisy was sniffling again, wiping her eyes with more fury than before. Red streaks lit up her face as she glared at the cobbles beneath them. Thomas sat back.

'You must think I'm so stupid.' Daisy mumbled bitterly.

'Oi.' Thomas said a little too loudly, making Daisy jump, 'You're not stupid. If he knows what's good for ‘im, he'll come crawlin’ back and beg forgiveness.'

'But what if it’s too late?'

It was Thomas's turn to shrug, 'No idea. He does love you, you know.'

Daisy's gaze shot to his.

'What?' she squeaked.

Thomas rolled his eyes, 'That soppy git’s been all over you since the day he arrived-.'

She began to shake her head, 'I don't believe you.'

'You should. I'm right.'

Sighing, Daisy fiddled with the edge of her apron while Thomas wondered how on earth he'd ended up giving advice on love and life. He smiled to himself. That was a thought.

The wind picked up and tousled Thomas's hair, which he instinctively reached to flatten until it no longer worked. He glanced up at the darkening sky, suddenly aware of how much time had passed.

'You should go inside, or Mrs Patmore might cook you.' he joked.

Daisy pursed her mouth, pulling her arms in. Thomas noticed goosebumps rising on her skin.

'Just a bit longer if you don't mind?'

'’Course.'

'Do you remember when I fancied you?' Daisy said wistfully.

Thomas snorted, 'Oh yes.'

The comment earned him a hit on the knee, which set him off chuckling. Daisy tried and failed to keep a grin from her face.

'Such a bloody man!' she whined when he kept smirking.

Thomas shook his head, 'I was windin’ you up back then. Sorry about that. Again.'

'Thank you, but... I'm just wondering, why didn't you... Y'know... Like me back? I know I'm not exactly... I dunno, but why?'

He raised an eyebrow, eyeing Daisy and searching her face. Crossing his arms, Thomas tilted his head and realised. He winced. Poor girl.

'Did no one tell you?'

'Tell me what?' she asked innocently.

'Blimey. Didn't think it was still a secret.' he mused sarcastically.

'Oh, come on, Thomas, what is it?'

He paused, unsure of how to word it. He'd never really had to tell anyone before, they just sort of found out accidentally. The men he'd chatted up and slept with knew on cautious instinct just like he did. People in the house had inklings and the older ones had guessed years ago. Thomas never said a word until Mrs Hughes found him sobbing outside. Opposite, Daisy waited in anticipation as if a puppy were about to burst from one of the crates.

'I'm not a lady's man... Exactly.'

She huffed, 'Mrs Patmore told me that ages ago but she never said what she meant.'

Thomas groaned inwardly. Bluntness would have to be the approach.

'Daisy, you fancy men, right?'

'Yeah?'

'So do I. Only men.'

Daisy's eyes widened as soon as the words came out. Thomas, in spite of the danger, in spite of this day, in spite of feeling like he was existing somewhere between death and life, had to bite the inside of his mouth to stop himself cackling. Instead, he tightened his grip on his arms and smirked as he watched Daisy work it out, each thought playing out on her face. Her brow furrowed a touch, and then rose and managed to look even more shocked than she was in the first place. Unable to stop himself, Thomas snorted, snapping Daisy out of her state of wonder.

'Oh.' she said.

'Did I render the one and only Daisy Mason speechless?'

'It all makes sense now.' Daisy muttered, 'Thomas, this is illegal.'

The corner of his mouth quirked, 'Really? Bloody hell, I hadn't noticed.'

'Why did you tell me?'

'You deserved to know after everything I did to you.' he confessed, remembering how crestfallen she'd looked after she'd realised what he was truly like, and not some fairy tale prince.

'I promise I won't tell anyone, not a single soul.' Daisy spoke quickly.

'I appreciate it.' he said, knowing full well that most of the older staff at least knew about him.

'And I don't mind!'

'Wasn't expecting you to.'

Thomas looked back at the house and sighed heavily. As much as he, amazingly, wouldn't have minded talking more, he also knew that dinner was fast approaching for the upstairs lot. When he turned to Daisy, she was standing up, having thought the same thing apparently, and dusting off her apron. He got to his feet and did the same to his trousers, questioning his decision to sit on these crates wearing his smartest clothes. Without another word, he gestured to the back door and started walking over with Daisy following behind. He didn't notice her steps suddenly stop until she said his name.

'Thomas, wait.'

He spun slowly on his heel, hands in his pockets.

'What is it?'

'I'm- I'm worried about seeing him. What do I say?'

Part of him, nearly all of him in fact, wanted to tell her to leave Andy behind in her wake and move on. Then again, he knew Andy wasn't a bad lad. There would be a good reason he was acting like a moron. Thomas let his gaze wander to the rich blue sky above as he thought.

'Tell him you're miffed, but... Tell him that and then tell him you know he's a good person and that he'll work out whatever that idiot boy is trying to work out in the end. If he's got half a brain between those extraordinary ears, he'll see sense.'

'Now I'm more worried.'

Thomas almost burst out laughing, 'My incredible advice not good enough for you? That was me best material, daft girl.'

Looking down at Daisy, Thomas soon realised she wasn't joking around like he was. Her eyes filled with concern and she'd stepped closer to him. She had her arms wrapped around herself and her head to one side as if she was pondering the universe.

'What happened to you to make you know all this?'

The tight pain returned in his lungs and that rushing, sweeping urge to flee grew in his muscles. His mouth tightened as he tried to think his way out of it.

'You don't have to tell me.' Daisy said in a small voice.

'I probably shouldn't.'

He didn't move from the spot, frowning at the ground.

'But?' Daisy pressed on.

Thomas sighed and forced himself to look at her.

'Jimmy Kent happened.'

'Oh... Oh, no Thomas, he was here wasn't he, yesterday or something?'

He nodded, 'I made a mistake about him a few years ago, but it's over now.'

Unwilling to say anymore, Thomas was about to continue back inside when Daisy spoke up again.

'You haven't got the flu really, have you?'

He sighed wearily, 'No, Daisy.'

'What's wrong then?'

Thomas smiled. Really smiled. He felt the soft, pinkish sort of tingle in his face and tightness in his throat he got when he was close to crying.

'One day, I'll tell you that too.'

Daisy nodded and didn't press him anymore. She sucked in a deep breath, patted down her apron and stuck on a smile. Thomas fought the urge to take yet another step into the realm of soppy-ness by hugging her. Instead he gave her a wink.

'That's my girl. Come on.'


	4. The Long Way Around

Jimmy ran, tripping and stumbling like a baby giraffe, with everything he had. Twice he fell on his face and more than that he was stopped by some person or another demanding to know why he was flying across the Yorkshire countryside. Nothing lessened the rapid pounding in his ribcage. People and trees and fields whizzed passed him, but none of it mattered now. Not even London or his jobs waiting for him meant anything in the face of... Well, he wasn't sure exactly.

He regretted not taking the bus as he slowed down and halted by a tree to catch his breath. He stayed there for a couple of minutes, attempting to put his thoughts in order. Something had changed. That was certain. It wasn't how he felt. No, he was positive that whatever this was, this blasted burning sensation he felt in his stomach whenever he thought about his interactions with Thomas had been there for a very long time. Jimmy wiped the back of his hand over his top lip and threw himself into another run, arms pumping, his suitcase weighing him down like an anchor.

The sky darkened, becoming jewel-like as daytime faded. Jimmy climbed over a stile and landed in the next field, two or three away from the Abbey, at the top of a long and steep hill. Poppies dotted the green like drops of blood. On his right, grey stream threaded its way around an oak tree, leading down to the road at the bottom. He sucked in a breath and trotted along it, careful not to trip on any damp stones. Having to slow his pace only made him more determined to see Thomas again, just for a moment. Then, he assumed, lightning would hit and he'd get to go home satisfied. He hoped.

Downton Abbey emerged over the horizon, windows ablaze with sunlight and the towers watching over the surrounding land. Somewhere underneath the grandeur, Jimmy thought, Thomas was busying about when he shouldn't be. He knew that for a fact. Jimmy paused on the path leading up to the servant's quarters and stared up at the massive building. A smile snuck onto his features. Thomas was so close now.

Jimmy slowed to a hasty jog for the rest of the way, panting until his throat burned and his head pounded. The seconds couldn't go by fast enough.

Swinging around the last corner, Jimmy stumbled into the courtyard, skidding to a halt. He almost gasped but swallowed it. There he was. Thomas had his foot on the doorstep and appeared to be looking back at him. Jimmy beamed. A slight intake of breath next to him shattered the shot of joy. He grimaced and looked down at Daisy, whose mouth gawped like she wanted flies to waltz in.

'Uh... Hello, uh, Daisy... Mr Barrow...' he stammered, switching his gaze between the two.

'James.' Thomas said curtly.

Jimmy’s fingers curled tightly around his suitcase. Dull, cold pain formed like an iron ball just behind his sternum, yet he couldn’t look away. Thomas had a knack for securing you in his line of fire until you squirmed, now was no different. As ragged breaths poured in and out of his lungs, he managed to maintain the silent exchange, staring into Thomas's silver eyes. Beside him, Daisy coughed and muttered something about broken china. She hurried indoors, but as she passed Thomas, her hand darted out and squeezed his elbow. Jimmy watched this in silence, confused. They'd never seemed that close when he'd worked there. Then again, he knew as he looked back to Thomas, many other things had changed. His palms sweated.

'Thomas, you should know-'

'We're not doing this out here. Inside. Now.'

Thomas whipped around and headed through the back door. Jimmy hesitated before he followed. He told himself to stop acting like a hunted animal and went after Thomas before he could change his mind.

Ignoring the surprise on people's faces as they saw Jimmy was back yet again, the two men went straight up to Thomas's bedroom. Thomas didn't say a word.

Sometimes his anger could be as cold and as barren as glaciers, the kind of silent rage that caused others to shrink under his gaze. This variety was the most useful because it remained under the ice.

Then, there was the other kind.

Jimmy shut the door with a soft clunk and turned to see Thomas standing in front of the window, light pouring in around him but leaving his face in the shade.

'You are a... Complete and utter arse, Jimmy Kent.' Thomas's voice shot between his teeth in dagger like bursts. He aimed his glare and hoped to God or whatever the hell was out there that his gaze drilled into Jimmy.

Jimmy could have died there and then. This was going to be bad.

'I don't understand-'

'Don't understand?' Thomas shouted suddenly, 'Do you have any ruddy idea what you did?'

Jimmy licked his lips and spoke shakily, 'Maybe kissin’ you wasn't me best idea.'

'That isn't the point! You did that under broad bloody daylight! You did it where there's windows! Anyone could've come out and you know who would get arrested on sight? Me, Jimmy!'

Thomas was shaking. His hair had come undone. His hands quivered and his breathing laboured as though he was barely containing his rage. Jimmy swallowed thickly and forced himself into staying silent. His heartbeat even harder and faster than it had the entire run back to Downton. He'd never seen Thomas like this, never this furious. The stories that had circulated about him never covered this... This wounded animal, this wolf out to kill, suffering because of him. Guilt buried itself in his chest.

'Thomas, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinkin’.'

The excuse was pathetic, and he knew it. Yet, suitcase clasped in a sweaty hand, his body drained, and every second that passed piling on more remorse, that's what he was.

'That's always the problem with you! You never fucking think- you're Jimmy contra fucking mundi, only you exist, doesn't matter who else gets bashed about because you didn't think!' Thomas railed.

'I know.' he whispered.

'What? No fighting back?' Thomas spat, turning to face the window, dragging his hands down his face.

'No.'

'Why ever not?'

'Because you're my best friend, and you're right. You're right about everythin’, about me, about my gobby mouth and my stupid, idiot brain, everythin’.' a wistful smile formed on Jimmy's face, 'You normally are.'

Thomas's lungs heaved as his throat tightened. His eyes stung. Crying would not help him, but he couldn't stop the liquid collecting in his eyes. He blinked it back, restraining his sadness for a mere second before it was too late. Defeated, he sat on the edge of the bed and held his head in his hands.

'God, it would be easier if I hated you.' he murmured.

He didn't expect Jimmy to hear his words, let alone respond. Nor did he expect Jimmy to pad over and kneel in front of him, taking his tear covered fingers into his warm hands. Thomas looked up, meeting Jimmy's fierce determination. Jimmy had never held his hands before.

'I'm gonna promise you a few things, alright?'

Thomas’ brain shouted at his mouth to form words but the swelling emotion in Jimmy's face, the softness of his lips, and the frown burrowing lines between his eyebrows, rendered him unable to speak.

'I'll never force you to tell me about those things you did to yourself, I'll never shout at you for stuff you can't help, I won't put you in danger, and I'll never run out of cigarettes ever again- just... Please, Thomas... Don't- don't be angry with me. I know I've given you every right to be, but I...'

Jimmy's hands squeezed his, pushing his knuckles until they hurt. Thomas didn't flinch. As quickly and as sharply as the pain arrived, Jimmy let go and moved away, stumbling to the wooden chair still in the middle of the room from before. Jimmy fell into the chair. He watched as Jimmy's eyes stared out blankly, overwhelmed, overcome. He narrowed his own gaze. Relief. That was there too, lurking in his dropped shoulders and muscles less tensed around his mouth. Thomas wanted to say something to snap him out of whatever the bloody hell this was. At the same time, Jimmy sat so still. He loved every facet of Jimmy, but he didn't see this often, not in the years they'd worked together, not even in the last two days. Except, the more he sat there, the more Thomas worried.

'Jimmy?'

Jimmy kept staring into nothingness, but a small whisper slipped out, 'Bugger.'

Finally, Jimmy met his eyes and they dazzled him, as always. Blue was blue, but the colour of Jimmy's eyes could knock him over. They fixed on him as if he had just given him the secret to existence. Jimmy ran his tongue along his lips and moved the chair an inch closer.

'Have you ever realised somethin’ a bit... life changin’... at a really bad time?'

Thomas stared incredulously as the tears dried on his cheeks.

'What are you on about?'

Jimmy sat back and ran his hands through his hair.

'Uh... I don't know how you're goin’ to feel about this.'

'Jimmy, for Christ's sake, can you just say what you bloody want now?' Thomas said, exasperated, 'I am too fuckin’ tired and too fuckin’ sad for more.'

Jimmy sat leaned forward, elbows on his thighs, hands clasped like he was praying. His eyebrows knotted in thought.

'You... You've made me question everythin’, Thomas, everythin’ I've ever known.' he rambled, tripping through every syllable like a ball falling down the stairs, 'You're literally the only person I... Right, so, you're the only person I care about right now and you're my best friend and you're completely right and I'm sorry and I’m in love you.'

Jimmy let go of a breath he didn't know he was holding. His head spun. The simple fact blew his mind, and there it was, out in the open.

'I'm in love with you.' he repeated.

The only sound in the room was that of the two men breathing. Jimmy's grip on his knees loosened and his lungs filled to the brim again. Suddenly, the last few years made so much sense and- oh God. His breathing stuck for a moment in his throat. He loved Thomas. He was in love with Thomas. Oh God. His mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. Clarity squashed the slick talking Jimmy Kent into stark silence.

It was as if Thomas had been punched in the sternum. He flicked his gaze to Jimmy, who was watching him nervously. Yet, at the same time as his blue eyes didn't seem to be able to leave his, his shoulders had relaxed and his mouth, that mouth, appeared to be battling something. Thomas blinked and the expression didn't disappear. He wasn't imagining this. His chest swelled with every ounce of pain and love he'd experienced because of Jimmy.

Thomas kneaded his hands and pushed his thumb between every knuckle covered by the glove, digging in the material around his blighty like a mayday button. His thoughts shrunk back to those months before when Jimmy could barely look at him, when Jimmy had glared at him in disgust and a constant need to prove himself. Thomas loathed those memories, but his self-doubt had always kept him safe until this moment.

'Is this a joke?' his voice was no longer under his control but fraught with tremors. Thomas grimaced. He could see it now, Jimmy falling over his own feet with laughter, clutching his hat, skidding out the door to tell anyone who cared how stupid-

'’Course it's not a bloody joke!'

As soon as the words shot from his mouth, Jimmy reeled back. He dragged his fingers through his hair, suddenly aware of how hot his skin was under his shirt. Stupid rage.

Clearing his throat, he forced himself to speak evenly, 'Thomas, it's really not, I swear on... I swear on me mum. I meant every word.'

Thomas gulped. Jimmy's mother was sacred ground. Neither spoke about their parents much, if at all, but he knew that his mother was cocooned and off limits from any conversation. Thomas lifted his gaze from the floor.

'Since... When?' he said, sounding stronger than he felt in this moment, and right now he was melting.

'Uh... Not sure, really, but long before... Well, right now. Took the long way ʼround. I thought I just missed you, and I did, but I've been thinkin’ about you a lot and how nice we had it and how much I... God, I've fucked this up, haven't I?'

Jimmy raked his fingers through his hair, shifting on his feet.

'Can you say somethin’?' Jimmy hated how pleading he sounded, 'Please, Thomas? Have I ruined everythin’...? Again?'

Thomas lifted his head.

'Why now?'

Jimmy sighed, 'I told you, I only got it me-self about five minutes ago.'

This wasn't how it was meant to be. Thomas’ hands curled into fists. Back when he and Jimmy were still just friends, not this tangled mess, he'd imagined what these moments would be like after one of them confessed everything. In his mind, they smiled and wept, and the moments would flow into hours of bedsheets and golden sunlight. The pain of it often ached as much as a hammer to the head, but it didn't matter.

Here and now, in the bland dismal bedroom, Thomas could feel that life just within his reach if he gave in. It was so tempting just to let go of the things Jimmy had done. He scowled at the vile choice he was having to make and forced himself to straighten his spine.

'You do realise it's been years, don't you?'

He hated how bitter he sounded, each word cutting through the air between them. Jimmy's eyes widened, his mouth hanging open for a second. Thomas continued to knead the war wound. His downturned mouth, those icy eyes glaring at his shoes, his jaw taught. Jimmy sat back. He hadn't known about this.

'I realise that.' he tried saying softly.

Thomas shook his head, 'No, no, this isn't happenin’.'

Jimmy looked aghast.

'What?'

Narrowing his eyes, Thomas stood up.

'I won't be one of your mistakes,' he said as calmly as he was able, 'I'm not an experiment. I'm not here to wait around while you make up your bloody mind and fuck off again.'

Jimmy shot to his feet.

'I just told you how I feel, and you think this is just... an experiment?'

He didn't want to think it, but that was how life was, wasn't it? Thomas pressed his bitten nails into his palms until it stung. No feelings were ever real when it came to him. He'd been let down too many times and now he could see it happening again. Tears threatened his integrity. A few months or years would pass, and Jimmy would realise what a huge mistake he was making. He would abandon him and move onto some tenacious life with parties and girls around every corner. Thomas sniffed and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand as the freight train in his head plummeted on. No one had ever loved him before, so why would anyone start now?

'Yes.' he whispered, not meeting his eyes.

'How could you?' Jimmy stepped towards him, his voice low and gentle like he was coaxing a frightened animal, 'I thought... I thought you thought better of me...'

Jimmy stopped himself before he said something really stupid. He bit the inside of his mouth and shut his eyes for a moment. Guilt swam in his stomach like tar. There was no repairing this. He'd truly wrecked anything they had and now they both had to deal with what he had done. Jimmy clenched his jaw and started towards the door. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Thomas shouldn't have to get hurt, he should have-

'No!'

Jimmy halted just before the door with his hand clasped around the metal handle. He looked over his shoulder as Thomas stood tentatively and couldn't stop as the man walked up to him.

'No, hold on, don't go, Jimmy, Jesus...' Thomas spoke gently, shaking his head.

With a shuddering breath, Jimmy stepped back, just out of his reach and glared at the buttons on Thomas's waistcoat instead of his eyes. The fact that he was even wanting him to stay amazed him. He couldn't imagine what Thomas had gone through. Jimmy frowned and something clicked. He looked up at Thomas's pale face.

'This isn't just about me, is it?' he murmured.

Thomas remained silent.

'You keep goin’ on about the things you've done,' he continued, 'and you keep pushin’ me away, but it's not just because of me.'

Jimmy gasped as it fully dawned on him. He couldn't quite believe it, yet it was so obvious now. They kept throwing the word around when it came to him and his stupid selfishness, but then Thomas had always been a master at deflecting.

'You don't think someone can love you.'

He watched as the muscles around Thomas's eyes tensed. The discovery didn't bring Jimmy any joy, especially as Thomas smiled bitterly and met his eyes with sadness. Jimmy fought the urge to reach out to him. At least he knew what that meant this time.

'When people tell you you're bad again and again,' Thomas said slowly, 'and they push you around because... they're scared, you start to believe them.'

Jimmy took a step towards him, not believing what he was hearing. He was never scared of Thomas. Furious with him, yes, worried about his own reputation, yes, but never scared. Thomas stared at his feet, fully aware of how pathetic this all sounded coming from him. He wouldn't have blamed Jimmy if he walked away now.

'You aren't bad.'

Thomas looked up as Jimmy spoke.

'You're not bad or evil or wrong and I'm not scared of you.' he said simply, 'I love you.'

'Jimmy, stop it-'

'I love you.'

Thomas bit back a laugh as he stared down at the other man, who was now smirking with a disturbing amount of self-satisfaction, offsetting that fleeting sentimentality. This was in complete contradiction to the fresh tears spilling from his eyes, glistening like dew. Nothing without a joke when it came to Jimmy Kent. He wouldn't have it any other way.

'You're bein’ ridiculous.'

'I can keep goin’, Thomas,' Jimmy chided, 'I'm just as stubborn as you are, and I love you.'

To Jimmy's amazement, Thomas smiled wickedly, eyes flickering with life just like they did the day before.

'Welcome to my life, you dolt.'

Jimmy was the first to crack, laughing wearily while Thomas grinned. He shook his head at himself, wondering how on earth either of them had gotten to this point. He met Thomas's eyes, expecting to find the same disbelief.

This, Thomas knew with every sad, ridiculous, and downright soppy fibre of his being, was perfect. His chest swelled again, threatening his eyes with more tears than he could handle, but he was sick of crying. He let himself feel it for the first time. This was real. Someone loved him. Jimmy loved him.

What a bloody feeling.

Jimmy's eyes crinkled as he smiled, properly like a giddy boy. His eyes put glaciers to shame they were so blue, but that wasn't quite it. His mouth quirked, drawing Thomas's gaze down. No, Jimmy was drenched in summer. He ignored the inner voice telling him he was melting like a rather pathetic ice-cream and let his thumb brush Jimmy's cheek, sliding to his jaw, before allowing his other hand to reach up so he could gently hold his face. The grin evaporated and turned into wonderment. Jimmy's eyes widened slightly, but he didn't move, mesmerised by how careful Thomas was being, despite the starving air about him and how gorgeous that snarky mouth looked right now. He couldn't believe he was thinking those thoughts.

'Are you sure about this, Jimmy?'

Thomas's voice had lowered to just above a whisper, cracked and husky. Jimmy didn't know this side of him, but God, now he wanted to. An airy laugh escaped him as he looked into Thomas's face.

'I am.'

Thomas sniffed, his brilliant and rarely seen beaming grin wavering.

'This life isn't easy.'

'Yeah,' Jimmy said shakily, 'but I can take it.'

'And I won't let anything happen to you,' he continued, stroking Jimmy's hair, 'no one will get close.'

'No more tossers like me. Promise.'

The smile returned and lit up Thomas's face.

'You're a git.'

'I know.'

Unwilling to wait any longer, Thomas ducked his head and crushed his mouth against Jimmy's, inhaling sharply at the contact. Jimmy tilted his face towards him, hands suddenly at the base of Thomas's neck as his cap toppled from his head. This time, Thomas drew him out gradually, giving neither of them a chance to breath, sinking deeper and deeper. His hands glided down to Jimmy's waist and pulled the man's body against him, causing Jimmy to grab the back of his head and hum happily. He wanted to hear that sound every single day he lived.

It took what simultaneously felt like eons and mere seconds for them to break apart. When they did, Jimmy's face flushed, his eyes closed for a moment longer, mouth parted and breathless. Thomas reached a hand up and threaded his fingers into his hair before resting it on Jimmy's shoulder.

Jimmy opened his eyes, half in shock. He gestured vaguely upwards, grinning wildly, eyes alive. Thomas held his breath.

'We... We're doin’ more of that.' Jimmy breathed.

'Yeah?' Thomas asked, beaming.

'Yeah.' Jimmy nodded frantically and then laughed, 'This is so strange.'

Thomas rolled his eyes, 'Not really what I was goin’ for.'

'No! No, sorry I'm bein’ an idiot, not bad strange, just- just you're all tall and you've got...' Jimmy paused and squeezed his eyes shut, 'I need to stop talkin’.'

'It's alright,' Thomas pressed his forehead into Jimmy's, not taking his eyes off Jimmy's eyelids and the blue they hid behind them, 'Everything's alright.'

'Just alright?'

'You're perfect.'

'You sound tipsy.'

'Feel it.'

'Well, before you make a tit out of yourself like I am...'

The floorboards beneath them squeaked as Jimmy stood on his toes to kiss him. Their noses bumped. Jimmy's hands fell on Thomas's shoulders, while Thomas messed up Jimmy's hair, the tips of his fingers skimming the collar of Jimmy's shirt. He didn't think as he spun them around slowly, nor as he and Jimmy stumbled closer and closer to the edge of the bed. Only the metallic thud of his knee knocking the bedpost alerted him to it, but he didn't want to open his eyes. Their bodies couldn't have been any closer and yet they couldn't get close enough. Thomas ran his hands down the thick material of Jimmy's waistcoat. A low, fervid moan emitted from Thomas's throat.

Immediately, Thomas pulled himself back, keeping his grasp around Jimmy's waist and opened his eyes. Jimmy panted, pink and flushed as puzzled lines formed between his eyebrows. Thomas's mouth parted, searching for words and finding nothing as he looked into Jimmy's eyes, then his nose, his mouth. Gently, he raised a hand and pushed dark gold hair from Jimmy's face. Jimmy nodded.

Every nerve in his body fizzed as he kissed Jimmy. He tugged Jimmy's hips towards him. His mouth trailed sloppily down Jimmy's jaw, to his ear, in his hair, and all the while Jimmy's jacket conveniently dropped to the floor at his touch. Jimmy stumbled, laughed and pulled Thomas's own jacket from his shoulders. He breathed hard and fast, as did Jimmy, grappling with Thomas's tie. Just as Jimmy flung it across the room, Thomas pushed.

Jimmy landed on the bed. It creaked violently. His eyes widened. He was floating. A stunned grin crossed his face as Thomas descended on him. He'd had no idea. Jimmy gripped the back of Thomas's head, fingers digging into his now unruly hair and gasped as Thomas let his right-hand glide down. Jimmy flinched.

Thomas squeezed his eyes shut and halted. His mouth flattened. Jimmy almost choked on air and stared as Thomas withdrew into himself, his fingers curling into the sheets on the bed.

'Thomas?' murmuring, Jimmy cupped his face with one hand, scanning Thomas's tense closed eyes.

'I... I can't. I won't do it.'

Jimmy froze.

'What does that mean?'

Thomas opened his eyes and gazed at the beautiful man beneath him. His chest tightened as he flashed back to that night.

'I love you... So much. That's why I won't do this.' he gave a sad smile, 'At least not now.'

Jimmy sat up as Thomas moved and knelt between Jimmy's knees. Bowing his head, he focused his eyes on the grey material covering Jimmy's knee and placed his hand there. Jimmy reeled as he watched Thomas do this, watching guilt wrap itself around him and constrict. He knew the feeling too well.

'Why?' he asked softly.

Thomas ran his tongue over his bottom lip as he tried to fathom how he could say it all without scaring Jimmy off. In the end, he knew, he had to just tell him. He sucked in a long breath.

'Because I want you to trust me first.'

As soon as the words left him, Jimmy leaned forward so their foreheads touched. Jimmy wasn’t much for physical contact, at least not when they were just friends. Jimmy held his face in both hands and spoke firmly.

'I trust you, you idiot, of course I trust you.'

'Jimmy, I did somethin’ to you that-that I can't take back now,' he choked out, 'and I have to earn your trust back.'

This time, Thomas looked up at him. He smiled that sad smile, the one with all the regrets sewn into it.

'You flinched, Jimmy.'

Jimmy grimaced even though he was right. He dropped his hands and pulled away.

'Didn't mean to.' he mumbled.

Thomas shook his head. His eyes watered, but he kept the smile on. Jimmy wanted to make them both forget all that. He reached out stroked Thomas’ jaw with his thumb, feeling the beginnings of stubble underneath. Thomas shut his eyes.

'I am so, so sorry, Jimmy.'

Sniffing, Jimmy didn't speak. Or rather, he didn't think he could. His eyes stung. Listening to the sound of Thomas breathing kept him steady. It was a safe sound, one that he hoped to wake up to one day. In place of the words he couldn't say, he pressed a kiss to the space just below Thomas's hairline. When he looked down at him again, Thomas beamed exquisitely.

'I’ll do anythin’ you don't want me to. I never want to hurt you like that again.' Thomas went on, reaching up and taking Jimmy's hands into his own, clutching them tightly, 'I'll earn it.'

Jimmy gaped. He'd never been more certain of anything in his life.

'God, I bloody love you.' he said and kissed Thomas so hard that the other man almost fell backwards.

'Oh!'

Thomas and Jimmy broke apart. Thomas's whole body stiffened. His fingers clamped on Jimmy's knee. Jimmy's eyes widened with fear. Neither wanted to look up at the open bedroom door.

Thomas looked. His face went slack. Andy stood in the doorway, glancing between them. Confusion replaced his usual placid grin. Thomas saw his whole life crumble before his eyes. No. This wasn't happening. Not again, not like this, not now that he had Jimmy to protect too. Stupidly, instinctively, he wrapped his other hand around Jimmy's. He felt him shaking.

'Uh, Mr Barrow?' Andy said after what felt like an age.

'Andy,' Thomas choked, 'please, let me explain-'

'You don't need to, Mr Barrow.'

His brain screamed. Thomas tore himself away from Jimmy and scrambled to his feet. He had to protect him.

'I-I... Andy, I threw myself at him, he's done nothin’ wrong.'

'Thomas!' Jimmy hissed, jumping to his feet.

Thomas looked over his shoulder at Jimmy and glared, before returning to Andy. The boy was still staring, but at least he hadn't turned and run to Carson. Thomas licked lips and took a tentative step forward.

Behind him, Jimmy was frozen stupid. His heart sprinted ahead of him. He wasn't familiar with being afraid. His parents had shielded him from fear, every job he'd ever had was another shield against the world, and then there was Thomas. When he'd despised him, Thomas saved him. Now, he was sacrificing it all again. Jimmy didn't know fear well, but he did now, and it gripped his muscles in a vice. He'd never been so ashamed.

'Please, if you're going to go to Carson or the police, please, it was me-' Thomas rambled desperately, letting go completely of his usual clipped tone.

'Thomas, stop it!'

Jimmy clutched his elbow, forcing Thomas to look at him in disbelief. His wide silver eyes begged him to shut up, he mouthed the words over and over again, but Jimmy shook his head.

'No, not this time,' Jimmy said slowly 'you're not doin’ this alone, I promised you that.'

'Wait... What are you talking about?'

They both whipped their heads to Andy as he piped up. The lanky man looked as confused as both Jimmy and Thomas felt.

'Andy?' Thomas murmured.

'Why would I go to Carson and the police?'

Thomas frowned, 'I don't understand?'

Andy paused before shaking his head and stepping into the room. The door swung closed behind him. Thomas inched towards Jimmy, not daring to reach out and hold his hand. In front of them Andy, stared at the ground and then straight into Thomas's eyes.

'Mr Barrow, I'm sorry for avoiding you. You're a friend.' he smiled sheepishly at them both, 'I wouldn't let you go to prison.'

Thomas didn't know what to think. Or feel. Or do. Or anything. His lips parted as he soaked in what Andy was saying. He was so used to the worst thing imaginable happening to him that he didn't know how to deal with this. Beside him, Jimmy flicked his gaze between Andy and Thomas. He had no idea what sort of friendship they had, but he did realise one thing; Andy was a better man than he was.

Thomas's shoulders slumped. He grinned stupidly, all the way to his eyes. Glancing at Jimmy, he could have laughed out loud and hugged them both there and then. Jimmy, catching on quickly, relaxed too, giving Thomas a subtle nod. Thomas looked back at Andy.

'Jesus, Andy, thank you.' he breathed.

Andy half laughed, 'What? Because I don't think you should go to prison for kissing someone?'

'Well... Yes, actually.'

'Oh... I'm sorry made you think that I would.' he stammered, hooking utterly baffled even as he smiled, 'Don't worry. I wouldn't do that to you or-'

He cut himself off as his gaze jumped from Thomas to Jimmy. Andy gestured to him, glancing back at Thomas for reassurance.

'Sorry, are you Jimmy Kent?'

Jimmy swallowed thickly, 'Uh-uh... Yeah, I am.'

Andy nodded, 'Makes sense now.'

'W-what?'

'Daisy told me a bit about you when I first came. She said you and Mr Barrow were friends.'

Jimmy glanced at Thomas with a raised eyebrow as Thomas fiddled with his glove.

'Yes. He's my best friend. Thank you, Andy.' he said sincerely.

Andy turned for the door and was about to leave but seemed to remember something just when Jimmy thought they'd have peace again and he could recover.

'Oh, Mr Barrow, I meant to say- a letter came for you just now,' he fished a hand inside his jacket and pulled out a small white envelope, 'thought you'd want it as soon as possible.'

Thomas took the letter and stared at the handwriting for a moment. His name was written in swirled letters and the paper was thick and creamy.

'Thank you, Andy.'

'I'll leave you to it. I won't tell anyone.' he said, nodding a final time.

As soon as the door shut, both Jimmy and Thomas let out a long sigh of relief. Jimmy could have fallen down at a gust of wind, whereas Thomas looked almost on the verge of laughing. He reached back and searched the air for Jimmy before gripping his hand. Jimmy twisted his so that their fingers wove together.

'What just happened?' he said.

Thomas turned without breaking the link, his mouth tilted into a wily grin, pressing lines around his eyes. He held Jimmy's face with his free hand and sighed a long sigh.

'I have no idea.' Thomas breathed.

'Does that happen to you often?'

'Never,' he winked, 'I'm a careful man.'

'So... So, what do we do now?'

Thomas laughed, 'Whatever you bloody like.'

Jimmy squeezed Thomas's hand.

'Who would've thought, eh?'

'Certainly not me, let me tell you.'

'Nor I, Mr Barrow.'

'You were doin’ so well.'

'I'm a work in progress,' he teased. Then, his eyes looked down at their hands and his mouth flattened into a thin line, 'in lots of ways. I mean that. I'm... I'm not used to...'

'It's alright.'

Jimmy looked up questioningly.

'Is it though? You've always been fine with who you are.'

Thomas could have told him about the last six months, and maybe he should have, but Thomas couldn't bring himself to spoil this delicate fragment they had found. There would be other days less fragile than this and then he would unravel the whole mess. Instead, Thomas filled his lungs and told Jimmy a different truth.

'It is and you're safe with me. We'll be alright.'

'Thank you, Thomas,' Jimmy murmured, 'for changin’ my life.'

Thomas flushed and chuckled nervously, 'That's a rather dramatic.'

'No, it isn't. It's true.' he said thoughtfully, 'You changed my life.'

He didn't know what to say to that, who would? His limbs felt like jelly and his face burned. Words were not enough. He was about to muddle up something intelligible to say back when his gaze found the watch on Jimmy's wrist. He blinked and remembered.

'Shit- Jimmy your train, you missed your train!'

Jimmy stepped closer and smirked, 'I can stay with you now.'

'You have two jobs and no money.'

Jimmy's eyes widened.

'Shit!'

Thomas couldn't stop laughing as Jimmy scrambled to grab his suitcase and his hat from the floor. He was sure anyone walking past would think he'd finally lost the plot, if they didn't already, but he truly did not care. He cackled until his ribs ached and Jimmy snapped at him for being bloody unhelpful, which only made him laugh more. As they hurried down the stairs, Thomas somehow managed to regain control, coughing to cover up the fact that he couldn't stop picturing Jimmy whirling about like a dishevelled swan. Jimmy glared at him just as they entered corridor to the back door. At the same time, Mrs Hughes came out of her living room. Thomas met Jimmy's grumpy expression with a quick wink and then looked over him to Mrs Hughes. She raised her eyebrow.

'I was under the impression that running around the workplace was not allowed. unless I am mistaken in my own rules?'

'Sorry, Mrs Hughes.' Jimmy mumbled.

Her parental concern turned to Jimmy. Thomas held his breath, knowing that she didn't trust Jimmy after what he'd done.

'Mr Kent. Are you leaving?'

'Yes, Mrs Hughes.'

If he hadn't been so keyed up from the latest incident, Thomas might have burst out laughing again. Jimmy had his head hung as if he were a boy at school. He stopped himself from ruffling his hair and nodded to Mrs Hughes. She pointedly glanced at Jimmy and back to him, to which Thomas did something even he thought was stupid. Yet, somehow, in this fragile bubble he was floating in, he didn't care as much. He winked.

Mrs Hughes stifled a smile. Thomas watched it fight her iron will, suggested she knew what would happen all along. Sighing contently, she breezed past them, making sure to shake her head at him. He snorted and lead Jimmy outside.

'Wait, Thomas!'

They halted in the courtyard. Thomas spun around and huffed, not enjoying the dull aching tug in his chest like a rope tied around his ribs. Jimmy leaving was bad enough and now they didn't seem capable of walking out the bloody place.

Jimmy gestured to Thomas's jacket.

'You didn't read your letter.'

That man. Thomas stared in disbelief and beckoned him away.

'We don't have time, you silly man!'

Jimmy hopped forward and yanked his sleeve like a puppy before he could walk off.

'What if it's important?'

Thomas rolled his eyes, but he did what he was told. He smirked as he tore the envelope. He had a strong feeling he would be doing as he was told by Jimmy for the foreseeable future.

The paper was thick and heavy. He unfolded it to find crisp, typed paragraphs. His eyes narrowed.

'Well? What is it?'

Thomas stared at the words. Tearing his eyes from it, he blinked up at Jimmy, briefly distracted by the dusky gold light twinkling around Jimmy's body. Heat rushed through his stomach. He shook himself and attempted to form a sentence.

'I- uh... I got a job.'

Jimmy pounced, throwing an arm around his shoulders as he read the letter. Butterflies swarmed inside of him. He beamed up at Thomas and realised he'd been staring at him as he read. Thomas's hair was soft and feathered. He looked younger like this until you met his eyes. Jimmy squeezed his shoulder.

'That's brilliant- and it's, what? Five miles away? You'll barely have to wait, you could sod off now and leave this bloody lot in the dust.'

Laughing weakly, Thomas folded the letter again and slipped it into his jacket.

'I'll think about it.'

Jimmy bit his lip. His gaze dropped to Thomas's mouth. The urge to grab the man and kiss him into an oblivion teemed inside him, but he pushed it down. Instead, he carefully loosened his grip around his shoulders and allowed his fingers to brush the back of Thomas's neck. He smirked at the way Thomas shivered and raised an eyebrow at him like he was thinking the same thoughts Jimmy was.

'Go on, get your train.'

'You're not comin’ to see me off?'

Thomas shook his head sadly.

'Have to get back, make sure I'm ready to leave me-self.' he said, gesturing to the house behind them.

Jimmy moved to stand in front of him and gave a sharp nod. He fixed his cap and began walking backwards so he could keep staring for as long as he was able. Fading light outlined Thomas. The man tipped his chin to the sky.

'It's gettin’ dark, Jimmy.'

'Look after yourself, Thomas.'

Thomas chuckled and pushed his hands into his pockets. His name was sweet and warm and low like honey in Jimmy’s mouth.

'I will.'

'And remember what I said.'

Jimmy grinned, showing his teeth, and turned on his heels before disappearing down the path, hoping Thomas knew what he meant.

Thomas let his gaze wander across the sky as it darkened, and stars glimpsed through the fabric of it all. The cooling air mingled with the trees, blowing their crisp scent his way, and whispered unintelligibly. Rustling grass, leaves and bushes filled the air with breathy harmonies. Thomas shifted his weight to his heels and the gravel crunched. A deep sigh vibrated in his throat as he drank it in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This has been in the works for about a year so it's nice to see it as a whole. I hope you enjoyed it and thank you for reading!
> 
> I'm going to wait a couple of weeks just to make sure everything is ready, and then... the sequels. Hehe.


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